PS 3537 
.H77 C5 
1909 
Copy 1 




GLEANINGS 




Maigaret J. Shennan 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



GLEANINGS 



BY 

MARGARET J. SHERMAN 

BRODHEAD. WIS. 




Copyright 1909 



Steele & Schempp, Printers 
Brodhead. Wis. 






i a A 2 53 y;. 4 



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TO HIM WHO HAS SHARED THE LARGER 
PART OF THE YEARS OF LIFE WITH THE 
AUTHOR, AND HAS SO WELL "BORNE THE 
BURDEN AND THE HEAT OF THE DAY" THIS 
LITTLE BOOK IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED. 



Prrfarf. 



These few "Gleanings" of many years, simple 
and unpretentious, and containing many errors and 
imperfections (without which they would doubtless 
be too unlike the author) written in varied moods, 
and for varied purposes and occasions, are here 
gathered together more as a souvenir for loving and 
appreciative friends, than with the expectation of 
meeting with favor from a public already surfeited 
with books of poetry on every hand. But we ven- 
ture to hope that friends or strangers may find in it 
a "touch of nature" however imperfectly presented, 
which may find a response in their own hearts, and 
help them for a moment at least to see the sun- 
shine of life, forgetting the clouds and the storms. 



CONTENTS 



The Gleaner i 

When the Year is Old 2 

Forgetting, Remembering-New Year Thoughts 3 

Christmas 4 

A Christmas Thought 5 

To A. W 5 

A Spell of Weather 6 

The Brass Andirons 7 

To the Arbutus 8 

The Coquette 9 

The Coming Boon 10 

My Humming Bird 11 

Raise the Standard 12 

A Blustery March 13 

A Prayer 14 

Summer is With us Again , 15 

When the Leaves Fall 16 

Counting One 17 

The Kindly Gossip 18 

Regrets 19 



Sunlight. - 20 

Rest for the Weary 21 

Twilight Thoughts 22 

My Lesson 23 

The Pansy 24 

The Empty Ink Stand 26 

Summer Showers 26 

The Sunset 28 

A Word to Young Men 29 

Pot and Kettle 31 

The Slaughter of the Innocents 33 

Meditations of a Pioneer 35 

The San Francisco Disaster 37 

Going West 39 

Dakota vs. Wisconsin, By Mrs, Ellis 40 

Reply to Mrs. Ellis 42 

Take Courage 45 

Found 46 

Only a Little 47 

Work 48 

A Dream 49 

The Two Mothers 51 

Be of Good Cheer 53 

The Fire 54 

Laying the Corner Stone 55 

Dedication Poem 57 

The Tempest 58 

A Memorial Day Poem 60 

Tribute to Lincoln 63 



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Song of the Home and Heart 65 

To My Old Plaid Shawl 66 

Holiday Greeting 68 

A Christmas Memory 70 

A Mother's Lullaby 71 

Missed 72 

My Little Lover 73 

Till Death Do Us Part 75 

The Empty Nest 76 

My Brother 78 

Smiles Not Tears 79 

Childhood 80 

Little Mischief 81 

Arthur's Birthday 82 

The Birthday 83 

Kenneth 84 

A Story Lover 85 

The Ruck-a-Tuck 86 

Tender-Hearted * 86 

Mother's Kisses 87 

The Little Boy's Ideas 88 

Home is the Bestest Place 89 

Little Helper 90 

Waiting at the Gate 90 



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A Golden Wedding 91 

To Mrs. E. H 93 

A Birthday 94 

A Tribute 95 

Birthday Greeting 96 

Silver Wedding 97 

To Grandma Warner 98 

Bridal Greeting 99 

Dedication Poem loi 

To the Newly Incorporated Village of De- 
Forrest 103 

W. H. S. Class Song, 1896 104 

W. H. S. Class Song, 1897 105 

To the Class of 1909, W. H. S 106 

Sun Prairie H. S. Class Song, 1892 107 

Sun Prairie Class Song, 1894 109 

On the Death of G. H. Reuss no 

Gone Before in 

To Baby's Mother 112 

In Memory of Mrs. B. F. R 113 

To a Mother 114 

To Mrs. Butler 115 

Bridal Greeting 1 16 

To Mrs. E. Mc 117 

Cyril's Birthday 118 

To Mrs. Olyette Ellis 119 



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The Blind Soldier 120 

Welcome 122 

Written for Memorial Day Service of President 

McKinley 124 

To Washington 126 

To Francis Willard 128 

Weeds 129 

License — Yes, or No? 133 

Salt 135 

Do Something 137 

The Reaper 138 

Loyal Legion Song 1 39 

Victory is Coming-Equal Suffrage Song 140 

A Message 141 

Rallying Song 143 

A Question of Logic - 144 

Thoughts on the Twenty-Fifth Anniversary of 

the Ladies' Missionary Society 146 

How to Help a Missionary Meeting Live 148 

The High License Dog 150 



THE GLEANER. 



A gleaner was late in the field one day 

With a little sheaf in her hand, 
She said: *' 'Tis a long and weary wa}^ 

Since I left the morning land, 
My feet are sore, my eyes are dim, 

And the sun grows red in the west; 
I'll take my sheaf to the feet of Him 

Who hath bidden the weary, rest." 

The Master knew the toil and pain. 

Of this weak and erring child 
Of the goodly sheaf she had hoped to gain 

And he dried her eyes and smiled; 
And he said: "My child be conforted. 

All labor for me is blest 
Thy sheaf in my garner shall find a place 

Let thy weary soul find rest." 

That tender smile, those gentle words 

Sank deep in her aching heart. 
And she sighed: **It is such joy to find 

My work of the Lord's a part." 
Tho the work was so a ery poor and small, 

My Lord, he designeth to see, 
Tho' the world may not smile on it at all, 

Yet my Lord hath had need of me." 



WHEN THE NEW YEAR IS OLD. 



The New Year has come, and the old with its errors, 
Its joys, and its sorrows, forever has fled, 

The Happy New Year, how sweet in its promise, 
A wonderful story that's yet to be read! 

When the New Year is old, will it hold the riches 

Of promise fulfilled, and of duty performed. 
Of pure, lovely thoughts that have blossomed in 
action, 
Of victories won o'er the ramparts we've 
stormed? 

When the New Year is old will this self that is ever 
Forgetting its place on the ends of the line. 

Learn lessons of meekness from him that is lowly 
And conquer that self with a courage that's fine? 

When the New Year is New, how fair is its promise 
Of good resolution religiously kept! 

No rainbow is brighter than that we are painting — 
When the New Year is old will its failures be 
wept? 

When the New Year is old, shall we look behind us 
With bitter regrets for the words we have said, 

For the thots we have harbored, the habits that 
bind us 
Like strong, cruel cords to the past that it dead? 

Oh, let us remember the past and its lessons. 

Let not the past mistakes on the future take 
hold. 
And we shall grow wiser, and stronger, and better, 
The New Year grow brighter as it shall grow 
old. 

2 



FORGETTING— REMEMBERING. 
NEW YEAR THOUGHTS. 



'Forgetting the things which are behind," 

Was the wise words of St. Paul, 
Dropping burdens of sorrow and sin, 
Pressing forward at Duty's call. 

Like him forgetting our grief and pain, 
And our many mistakes now past, 

We will let no cloud or shadow of gloom 
O'er the pathway of life be cast. 

Forgetting all wounds and unkind words. 
Forgetting each grievance (so small!) 

Life is too short for hatred and strife. 
But peace and good will is for all. 

But remembering, yes, remembering, 

The friends who've been loyal and true, 

Whose cheery words in the hour of pain 

Have dropped on our hearts like the dew. 

Remembering the love and the kindness, 
Remembering each sunlit hour, 

Will strengthen each heart for its duties. 
And give new courage and power. 

And remembering, always remembering 

A diviner patience and love, 
A Savior whose life is our beacon light 

To guide us to heaven above. 

Forgetting all useless gloom and pain, 
Remembering the good and true, 

Thus may a life like a shining light 

Bless the world it is passing through. 
3 



CHRISTMAS. 



O glorious night, with promise bright 
When Heaven came down to earth 

When angel choir with tuneful lyre 
Announced the wonderous birth! 

The whispering breeze sang thro' the trees 
The sweetest song e'er heard 

And through the air, and everywhere, 
All nature's pulse seemed stirred. 

Radiance divine did round Him shine, 

Loud let the paeon ring, 
Let songs of joy your tongues employ, 

For Bethlehem's Babe is King! 

As dawned the morn when Christ was born 
So dawned the world's glad day 

When war shall cease, and love and peace 
Brighten and bless the way. 

Say not the way is dark today. 

We shall not see the noon; 
Had not the light pierced thro* the night 

We should not see the gloom. 

Heaven gave its best at love's behest, 

The law of Heaven is love, 
Let man diffuse the glorious news, 

That man his love may prove. 

Our Day Star bright o'ercometh night — 

Loud let the paeon ring 
Let song of joy your tongues employ 

For Christ our Lord is King! 



A CHRISTMAS THOUGHT. 

The Christmas Spirit, how can we express? 
How make this time a time of blessedness? 
Spirit of Christ: Ah, that is what we need. 
To Hve Hke him in very word and deed. 

He who was helpful, loving, and so kind. 
Gave health to sick and sight unto the blind. 
Whose life was wholly spent in doing good, 
To that Blessed One can we claim brotherhood? 

Yes, if like Him we gladly serve mankind. 
Comfort for troubled hearts like Him we find, 
Help for the helpless; and the hungry feed, 
Give cheer and courage to the soul in need. 

Give love and patience to the erring one. 
Yea give ourselves from morn 'till day is done! 
So we the Christmas Spirit may express 
And make this time a time of blessedness. 



^ 



TO A. W. 

(On receiving a fragrant remembrance from her.) 

As the shell on the lea holds the song of the sea. 
And the fragrance of Spring to the flowerets cling 
Thro' changes of time, and changes of clime: 
Lo thy beautiful youth holds its sweetness and ruth, 
Thy love and good will thro' thy deeds doth distil. 



5 



A SPELL OF WEATHER, 



The Holidays are past and gone, 
Of course they were delightful. 

But this in very truth we own 

The weather was just frightful! 

Such fog and rain for days and days. 

I ne'er before remember, 
A real "J^^^^^y thaw" 

Though mostly in December. 

The frost came out, the road fell in — 
The bottom — who could find it? 

The weary horses tugged and strained 
'Tis strange that they should mind it. 

With anxious eyes we watched the sky 
For days and days together, 

At last concluding in despair: 

"This is a spell of weather." 

The weather prophet struggled on, 
By past mistake undaunted. 

But when the promised snow came down, 
'Twas wetter than we wanted. 

But all things have an end, and now 
When e'er we meet together 

We'll boast for years and years to come 
About this spell of weather. 



THE BRASS ANDIRONS. 



There's a good story I've heard in the days of my 

youth 
That gives us a point, and, illustrates a truth, 
'Twas in the old times, in the days of our sires. 
When the old-fashioned hearth glowed brightly with 

fires, 
That one little woman (whose foreroom had seen 
Its very best days when her mother was queen,) 
Was seized with a fervent, and longing desire 
For a pair of brass andirons as bright as her fire. 

However she dared her desire to express 
The woman with wants unsupplied can but guess, 
But she had her own way as some women will, 
And tho very much pleased was unsatisfied still, 
For the glorious fire, and irons so bright, 
Made the faded old carpet look just like a fright; 
And the bright new carpet, so pretty and clean, 
Made everything else look dreadfully mean. 

And so this whole room must be furnished all thro' 
Before this dear woman could quite make it do. 
And now my dear friends to whom this is told 
Take warning by this, ere you find yourself sold. 
When you're counting the cost of an enterprise 
Look a long way ahead if you would be wise. 
A good thing begun must be carried thru; 
Or else you will find there is trouble for you. 



TO THE ARBUTUS. 



(a rondeau. ) 

Sweet arbutus, dear child of Spring, 
Thou shyest, sweetest, loveHest thing! 
'Neath fern and moss in woody dell 
Thy wealth of loveliness doth dwell; 
Thy fragrance doth thy secret tell! 

Thy lavish sweetness ends all doubt 
Discovering thy whereabout, — 
Thy subtle beauty breathing out. 

Sweet Arbutus. 

The dawning blush that o'er thee steals 
Thy modest purity reveals. 
Of modest worth an emblem true, 
Scattering thy sweetness like the dew 
While thy fair face is hid from view. 

Sweet Arbutus. 



THE COQUETTE. 

A pretty young girl, with hair a curl, 

And nose that went a tilting. 
Had lovers a score, perhaps many more. 

For she always was lovers a jilting. 

At last she espied a young man who defied 

All the charms with which she'd ensnare him, 

3he tried all her arts, for the winning of hearts, 
Not a single one did she spare him. 

But all was in vain; this daughty young swain 
Cared not for the homage she paid him, 

I've heard that he said, he never would wed 
Sdch a Will-o-the-wisp, as she'd made him. 

So this pretty young maid is left in the shade, 
No longer her nose goes a tilting, 

"With flirting I'm done," says she, **tis no fun 
When I am the one gets the jilting." 



THE COMING BOON. 



There's a great deal of pain with all this world's 
pleasure, 
It visits alike the great and the small, 
But the pain that we feel in most exquisite meas- 
ure 
Is the toothache, whose tortures the stoutest 
appal. 

Oh, give me the headache, the sideache, the back 
ache, 

A pain in my chest, or corns on my toes; 
But torture me not with a nerve-rasping toothache 

To crown and complete the sum of my woes. 

Just think of the pain we mortals must suffer 

From our tenderest years till we're decently 

dead; 
Than a bad aching tooth, pray what can be 

rougher — 
Save the dentist's firm grip when he pulls — off 

your head? 

There's a day that is coming (so say men of science) 

When man shall be toothless (and hairless as 
well) 

Alas! on that hope we can place no reliance 

We were born much too soon, and our loss, who 

can tell? 

Don't tell me that teeth are a bright charm of beauty. 

Or of ''gleaming white pearls" — they're a bane 

and a curse, 

I know what they cost at the dentist's, whose booty 

Grows by filling one's teeth, while he empties 

his purse. 

10 



Just think of the boon to babes without number 

When the bug-bear of teething's a thing of the 
past, 

Just think of the nights of unbroken slumber 

Fond parents may count on as certain at last. 

All hail to this boon for suffering humanity! 

This freedom from woes by which we're en- 
thralled! 
?vlay it ne'er be delayed by a question of vanity, 

When all shall alike be toothless and bald. 



^ 



MY HUMMING BIRD. 



All summer long a tiny visitor 

Has been about my door each sunny day; 
*Tis true he took no note at all of me, 

But paid attention to the blossoms gay. 
He helped himself to all their honeyed sweets 

And darted in and out at his own will, 
Nor asked permission, but nonchalantly 

He chose the sweetest flower and drank his fill. 
But he was welcome: oft with bated breath 

We watched the little creature with delight. 
His tiny form so full of airy grace 

As swift from flower to flower he took his flight. 



II 



RAISE THE STANDARD. 



Raise the Standard! Lift it higher! 

Let no sin your life control, 
Every thought or fond desire 

Leaves its impress on the soul. 

Raise the Standard; do not dally 
With a weakness, or a doubt, 

All your higher forces rally. 

Drive the base intruder out. 

Raise the Standard, firm and steady, 
Set a watch upon the tower. 

For the foe be always ready 

Lest he hold thee in his power. 

Trust not foes with friendly faces 
Coming in a smiling guise; 

Think not that such sins are graces, 
Trust them not. Be wise, Be wise. 

Raise the Standard; Live for others 
If thou wouldst thy soul enlarge. 

Look abroad and find thy brothers 
And to them thy debt discharge. 

Raise the Standard; To thy neighbor 
Love unfeigned can work no ill. 

Let it be thy earnest labor, 
To the law of love fulfill. 

Raise the Standard; Never lower it 
At the call of vice or greed. 

Let wrong-doers blush before it, 
Shamed at last to better deed. 

12 



Shun all evil, hate it, fear it, 
Never let it be thy guest, 

"Blessed are the pure in spirit" 
Let this blessing be thy guest. 

This our Standard! love supernal. 
Love to God, and all mankind, 

Planted on the Rock Eternal 
Heavenly joys our souls shall find. 

A BLUSTERY MARCH. 



The march of Time the month of March doth bring. 
The blustering herald of our '*gentle Spring," 
Old Winter angry at his shortening reign 
Takes hold on Spring until she shrieks in pain. 

Procrastination, O, thou "thief of time" 
Come, steal a March, nor deem it such a crime 
But that our chilling hearts will open wide, 
And let thy error sit by Virtue's side! 

O March, march on, nor leave a trace behind. 
Save in the memories thronging to our mind. 
Of snow, and ice, and sleet, and cutting hail, 
And grim old Boreas with his solemn wail. 

When thou art gone, our courage we'll renew 
As "distance lends enchantment to the view," 
Our cowering souls in shivering bodies shrouded 
Will spring to life like ajack-in-box, that's crowded. 



13 



A PRAYER. 

When to my daily toil I ply 
My fingers, Lord wilt thou be nigh, 
And tho' my hands employed may be 
Still may my heart commune with Thee. 

May I each sinful tho't repel. 
Nor malice in my bosom dwell. 
Nor cherish vanity or pride; 
But in my heart do thou abide. 

And when my cares are multiplied. 
And patience too is sorely tried; 
May I the hasty word repress, 
And speak in tones of gentleness. 

Lord, when my mind is sore distressed, 
And scarce can tell which way is best, 
May Heavenly wisdom, all divine 
Correct my judgment, guide my mind. 

What e'er I do, where e'er I be, 
Still may I ever cling to Thee; 
May I Thy blessed will obey, 
And purer, better grow each day. 

So may I ever let my light 
Shine like a star, as pure and bright, 
That haply some may see its gleam 
And find by it a brighter beam: 

E'en Christ the Star of Bethlehem; 

And I perchance shall add one gem 

To that bright crown which Christ shall give 

To those who serve Him while they live. 



14 



SUMMER IS WITH US AGAIN. 

See o'er the world, the beautiful world, 
Forests like banners of emerald unfurled, 
Over the fields like stars in the sky. 
Daisies have opened their eye. 
Clouds in the sky, like ships in the sea. 
Light breezes waft their sweet perfumes to me. 
All nature sings this happy refrain; 
Sweet summer is with us again. 

Refrain: 
Hark, how the birds are singing today! 
The fields and the woods are smiling and gay, 
See how the roses bloom in the glen! 
Summer is with us again. 

Summer has come, the birds are in tune. 
Beautiful roses crown glorious June. 
Gladly we welcome the queen of the year 
Bringing the summer time here, 
Birds build their nest in bowers of green. 
Butterflies gay in the sunshine are seen, 
Sweet happy laughter falls on our ear, 
And tells us that summer is here. 

Refrain: 

Hark, how the songs break forth thro' the trees, 
Sweet perfumes are wafted on every breeze. 
See how the roses bloom in the glen 
Summer is with us again. 



15 



WHEN THE LEAVES FALL. 



'Tis when the leaves fall that we feel 
The paradox of life and death 

In fullest measure, 
When we have seen a generous earth 

Yield up her treasure. 

'Tis then, we see the foliage of the trees, 
Touched by a kind tho' chilling hand, 

Blaze into glory. 
Then autumn winds despite the moaning trees 

Repeat the story. 

And scatter thickly on the earth 
Leaves that thru summer gayly danced 

The winds defying; 
But now of all their beauty shorn . 

Are sadly lying. 

While the nude trees wave empty arms 
And sigh, as if in loneliness. 

And patient sorrow, 
Perhaps remembering within their heart 

That there's tomorrow. 

Thou too sad heart, remember this: 
The brightness of thy yesterdays 

Outweighs thy sorrow. 
And hope still whispers in thy heart 

That there's to-morrow. 



i6 



COUNTING ONE. 



If this world were rid of evil, 

Drunkenness, and vice, and greed, 
Then would vanish want and sorrow, 

Making sad hearts glad indeed. 
O, how gladly one would labor 

Could some real good be done— - 
But this thot well nigh disheartens; 

What's the use? I'm only one. 

Only one, but there are many 

Praying, longing, for the right, 
Sitting may be in the darkness 

Of some wrong, some dreadful blight. 
Shall we watch the shadows deepen 

While we weakly sit (or run)? 
If we cannot be a thousand 

Shall we tail to be just one? 
One is but a small beginning 

But would you a cipher be? 
Are you willing to count nothing 

In this world's activity? 
Why of course it would be saner 

When there's something to be done, 
Just to stiffen up your backbone, 

Saying: "You may count me one." 

One that counts is worth a thousand 

Of the class that lags behind, 
Weak, and limp, and quite uncertain 

Where they're at — you know the kind. 
What one needs is greater courage 

Only cowards 'tis who run. 
He who stands may be quite lonely, 

But he's surely counting one. 
17 



O this world is much indebted 

To the men, and women too 
Who have counted one, and counting-, 

**Builded better than they knew," 
What's the use to wish for armies 

When there's something to be done? 
We shall see things surely moving 

When each counts himself as one. 

THE KINDLY GOSSIP. 

The genus of gossip, we mostly abhor. 

We are told they're malicious and mean. 

But I have a plea for gossips today. 

How strong — that remains to be seen. 

There are many gossips abroad in the land, 

Men, women and children galore, 
There are young men and maidens, husbands and 
wives, 

In the home, on the street, in the store. 
They are all interested in other's affairs. 

Are eager to gather the news, 
And then come remarks — either cruel or kind. 

For some will their knowledge abuse. 

There are some that will feed like the carrion bird 

On all that is filthy and bad, 

They reck not the wounds that are bleeding and 
sore. 

Nor hearts that are heavy and sad. 

But others there are, — not a few, I beleive — 

Whose hearts are tender and kind, 
Who say all the good of their neighbor they can. 

While to faults they wisely are blind. 

i8 



Their interest in other's affairs areas keen 
As those of whose wisdom we doubt, 

There's nothing of note transpires, it would seem. 
But they'll soon or late find it out. 

But like the old woman who would not speak ill, 

Of even the old Evil One, 
They speak only good, ignoring all else. 

By such gossip no harm can be done. 

If I am a gossip — which I'll not deny— 

May my tongue thus to kindness adhere, 

Speak kindly of all, or nothing at all, 
A gossip that no one need fear. 



REGRETS. 



O, for the talent that once I despised, 
I thought 'twas so poor and small, 

While others had talents many and great, 
That mine was just nothing at all. 

And so mine was hidden, I thot I was wise. 

But alas, what folly was mine! 
To spurn from my hand a precious boon 
Bestowed by the Giver Divine. 

For now I see it was meant for use. 
And using 'twould surely grow; 

How great or useful it might have been 
Alas, I may never know. 

My wisdom was folly, my lowliness pride 

I find to my grief and shame, 
If I must account for what I have not 
I have only myself to blame. 
19 



When I'm called to account, pray what can I 
say? 

"O Lord my gift was so small, 
There were others, could do so very much more 

That I have done nothing at all." 

*'A wicked and slothful servant thou," 

Me thinks I hear it said, 
"The talent despised shall be thine no more" 

As humbled I bow my head. 

God's law is just; those who faithfully use 

Their gift be it small or great. 
It shall grow, and increase as He hath designed, 

A blessing to church and state. 

But he who would make for himself excuse, 

And who will not fill his place. 
His soul shall shrink, his gift take flight 

And none shall speak his praise. 



SUNLIGHT. 



O, the beautiful sunlight, the glorious sunlight! 
Dancing and glancing o'er forest and glen, 
Shining and beaming, smiling and gleaming, 
Into the haunts of the children of men. 
Cometh so lightly, shineth so brightly, 
Reaching and teaching its lesson to all. 
Beautiful Sunlight! Glorious Sunlight! 
On high and on lowly alike doth it fall. 



20 



REST FOR THE WEARY. 



I am so weary, sin, and toil, and care, 
Oppress my wear}^ soul with such a weight. 
It seemeth for my feeble strength too great 
Where can I find rest? Can'st tell me where? 

I can not find it in the hall of wealth, 
Though to the eye all seemeth passing fair 
For moth and rust doth work corruption there, 
And cunning thieves come creeping in by stealth. 

Rest Cometh not with what the world calls fame. 
Many and great the hindrances arise. 
Though many strive but few obtain the prize, 
And when 'tis found 'tis but an empty name. 

The bond of friendship which our heart unites 
To those dear ones we know and love the best 
Death rudely severs, and I find no rest 
Nor comfort which my longing heart requites. 

But when despair has almost seized my breast, 
I hear a voice in gentle accents call: 
Come, weary, heavy laden one, let fall 
Thy load on me, and I will give thee rest. 

With glad content I lean on Jesus' breast, 
He heals my wounded heart, gives joy for grief, 
For all the cares of life gives sweet relief, 
Not death itself can take from me my rest. 



21 



TWILIGHT THOUGHTS. 



Softly, softly, falls the twilight 

With its vague and mystic charms. 
Folding me within its shadows, 

Like a mother's tender arms. 
This sweet hour, so hushed and holy. 

Soothes and calms my restless soul. 
And fond memories of childhood 

Like sweet visions o'er me roll. 

Now a presence sweet and solemn, 

That my spirit seems to know 
Wanders with me in the gloaming. 

Back to days of long ago. 
How the long years quickly vanish. 

All forgotten grief or care, 
And me thinks again I listen 

To my mother's voice in prayer. 

Heaven was near in days of childhood, 

Mother's knee the very gate; 
As we lisped the prayer: "Our Father," 

Angels round us seemed to wait. 
Now I listen for the voices 

Of the angel choir again. 
As I listened when I whispered: 

**Thine the glory forever, Amen." 

All too short the vision seemeth. 

As the darkness falls at length. 
But a blessed peace remaineth 

Giving needed help and strength. 
Heaven is kind, and holds rich treasures. 

Dear ones who have gone before. 
And the gate is mder open 

Than it was in days of yore. 

22 



MY LESSON. 

My heart, it was sad, and aching, 

Such a weight oppressed my soul, 
And the clouds above, around me 

Seemed in drear black waves to roll, 
The world — how dark were its shadows. 

Not a ray to pierce the gloom, 
It seemed to my darkened spirit 

Like the coming day of doom. 

I writhed 'neath the weight of anguish 

I Shrank from the bitter pain 
My soul cried out, despairing, 

Of sunshine or brightness again, 
I prayed — I was scarcely conscious 

Of the swift, wild words I said, 
But I cried in my need and sorrow, 

As a child cries out for bread. 

And then — ere I ceased my pleading — 

There came such a shining ray. 
It pierced through the clouds thick blackness 

And changed them to silvery grey! 
It pierced through the gloom it lightened. 

It fell on my upturned face. 
And showed through glittering tear-drops. 

The rainbows reflected grace! 

And a voice that was sweet and tender. 

Whispered soft and low in my ear, 
"Be trustful my child, thy sorrow 

Shall be like a cloud,— a tear, 
Through the darkest cloud of anguish 

My tenderest love can shine 
Even through tears of anguish 

Thou shalt see my love divine." 
23 



A hush came over my spirit 

Like the hush at break ot day - 
The sun of Heaven was shining 

Lighting once more my way. 
I took to my heart this lesson: 

To trust and never to doubt; — 
There's nothing 'twixt earth and Heaven 

Can keep God's sunshine out! 

c^ 

THE PANSY. 



I saw a maiden passing fair, 

I saw, and was her lover; 
Her cheek was like the sea-shell pink. 
Her eyes so blue you could but think 

Of the blue skies above her. 

Her lips were like the cherries red. 

With dimples round them playing. 
Her curling hair, that golden sheen 
Like clouds at sunset you have seen, 

Round her white forehead straying. 

Her hand a dainty slender thing, 

A book was firmly clasping 
Her glance on it was downward bent. 
And judging from her look intent, 
Some problem she was grasping. 

A little waif went hurrying by, 

A dirty ragged creature — 
A child of want you'd surely know, 
For misery, and want, and woe. 

Was seen in every feature. 
24 



He held a pansy in his hand, 

It was a thing of beauty — 
That fallen from some lady's breast 
He grasped, ere careless foot had pressed, 

Well pleased with his rich booty. 

He gazed on it with wond'ring eye 

As if he would discover 
How in this world of want and woe 
This beauteous thing had dared to grow; 

Then kissed it like a lover. 

The maiden on her book intent 
Saw not the little stranger, 
And as she passed the little boy. 
Loosed from his grasp this thing of joy 
Ere he could see its danger. 

He cried aloud in dire dismay, — 

'*Tislost," quoth he, now surely. 
She saw his look — she heard his cry — 
And hasting mid the passers by. 
Rescued the prize securely. 

She placed it in his grimy hand, 

As quick he came to meet her. 
He gazed upon her radiant face, 
Then on the pansy's subtle grace 

And wondered which was sweeter. 

And as he gazed on this fair maid. 

Her rare, bright beauty viewing, 
A smile lit up that want-worn face 
With such a strange fantastic grace. 
Like moonlight on a ruiii! 

And as the waif went on his way, 

His little heart was lighter. 
The world he thought so cold and bare, 
Held pansies sweet, and maidens fair, 
And all the earth seemed brighter. 
25 



THE EMPTY INKSTAND. 



Old friend, and can it be that we must part? 
You, with whose aid I've oft poured out my 

heart. 
Empty and useless now, your service o'er; 
Just cast aside and never thot of more. 
'Tis ever thus, not even man can boast, 
(At least when he's alive and needs it most.) 
That when his days of usefulness are past. 
He will not be in blank oblivion cast. 



SUMMER SHOWERS. 

How I love the summer showers. 
Making glad the thirsty flowers, 
Washing Nature's face so clean 
Grass springs up a brighter green; 
Makes the air so pure and sweet 
Just to breathe it is a treat! 
Floods the byways and the ditches 
With embarrassment of riches. 

Hear the children laugh and chatter! 
Getting wet? That doesn't matter; 
Mud and wet is just a joy 
To a lively barefoot boy; 
Little mud-prints of small toes 
Follow everywhere he goes. 
Hear him laugh aloud in glee 
With the water to his kneel 

26 



Not the same with Mrs. Older 
And the many things that hold her, 
Draggled skirts about her feet, 
Neither comfortable or neat; 
And she knows and feels it too, 
She don't like the rain, that's true, 
When obliged to be out in it 
She don't like it for a minute. 

But the boys, and birds and flowers 
Revel in the summer showers, 
Robin red-breast, joyous bird, 
Lets his tuneful voice be heard 
Singing gayly, while the rain 
Tapping on my window pane 
Has a music of its own 
Blending with the bird's sweet tone. 

O, I love the summer showers, 
(When I'm sheltered well, of course)! 
And I smile in sympathy 
With the children in their glee. 
Thirsty earth is smiling too. 
And the clouds, the sun shines through. 
Now the rainbow bright appears — 
Smiles will follow after tears. 



27 



THE SUNSET. 



The summer's sun was hanging low, 

It's fiercest heat was past, 
Weary and worn, we saw it go, 

The shadows lengthening fast; 
Gladly we welcomed evening's breath 

Of coolness in the air, 
And idly watched the changing clouds 

Form pictures quaint and rare. 

And then, — we gazed with raptured awe, 

The sun dropped lower yet, 
And upward all athwart the sky 

It's crimson banner set. 
We watched those flaming colors there. 

Those clouds, so soft, so bright. 
Their ever changing harmony, 

With reverent delight. 
No poet's pen, or painter's brush 

Could picture such a maze 
Of glory as o'er spread the sky, 

A gold and crimson blaze. 
It is a Hand Divine that spreads 

Before our wond'ring sight 
Such glorious glimpses of His skill. 

And fills us with delight. 

O, Hand that paints such beauties rare 

For mortal eyes to see. 
What hast Thou waiting those who win 

Blest immortality.'^ 
What skies are there, what glories rare, 

What harmony divine, 
We faintly guess from this one glimpse 

Of this fair world of Thine! 
28 



A WORD TO YOUNG MEN. 



They call this age the woman's age 

They are preaching loud and long; 
A fair and equal chance for the girls, 

Is the burden of their song. 
I find no fault with that, 'tis right 

The girls should have a chance, 
But I solemnly warn you dear young man, 

Don't let them get in advance! 

What do I mean."^ why in nature you know 
When bodies have gained momentum 

They go faster and faster 'till finally, 
You actually can't prevent 'em. 

In view of this don't you think it time 
You gave this matter attention? 

A pound of remedy you know 

Isn't worth an ounce of prevention. 

For the girls are moving surely 

They are filling their heads with lore, 
They are entering every open gate 

As they never did before. 

They're not angels, no indeed, 

That need not disturb your peace 

But they ought to grow wiser and better 
As their privileges increase. 

Your privileges, young man, I'm sure, 
In school, and church, and nation, 

Deserve a very large return 
By way of compensation. 

Indeed, they're scarcely limited 

So generous is the law: 

The unwashed savage now may vote 

Providing he isn't a "squaw." 
29 



"Noblesse oblige." 'tis a gracious word, 
Though by many 'tis neglected, 

The more of blessing that you receive 
The more of you is expected 

The fount of wisdom should ever increase 
Not remain the same like a pitcher. 

If the more you receive, the more you give 
This world will be growing richer. 

And now that the girls are gaining ground 
You'll have to be smarter than ever. 

Clear smoke, and dust, from brains and books 
Or you may regret it forever! 

For if you really expect to be 

The LORDS of CREATION Still, 

You'll find unless you bestir yourselves 

A DIFFICULT PLACE tO FILl! 

But looking abroad perhaps you will see 
This world is outgrowing its tether, 

They find there's no team pulls so well 
As the team that pulls together. 

Many puzzling problems might be solved 

Should we take a broader view 
You've nothing to fear if the girls do rise 

If you rise with them too. 
Rise, rise to your noblest height; 

Be strong, in the strength of a noble mind. 
You cannot afford in the battle of life 

To be lagging along behind. 

Rise by the might of noble deeds, 
By a character lofty and grand; 

Rise, and above the heights you reach 
Only the heavens shall stand! 
30 



As the generations are passing on 
Each one shakes off some fetter, 

So we expect each passing age 

To be growing wiser and better. 

As the world moves on at a Hvely pace 
Don't stop to dispute possession, 

But be sure of this, my dear young man 
That you keep abreast the procession. 

POT AND KETTLE. 



Says Mrs. Cook of Mrs. Brook; 

"She really beats the Dutch! 
Her children's just as mean as mine — 

But she don't care, — not much! 
My little timid nervous Sam 

Can't bear that bully, Joe, 
He teases him just frightfully 

It makes me mad all through." 

"Twas only just the other day 

I sent Sam to the store 
And he came home declaring: 

"He wouldn't go no more." 
That Joe, he plagued him fearfully, 

And called him names, he said. 
And when all other names gave out, 

Just said: "Redhead, Redhead." 

I guess redheads are just as good 

As towheads, or freckled face, 
And Sam just up and told him so, 

And I would in his place! 
I'd think that Mrs. Brook might see 

How mean her children act; 
She seems to think that they're just right, 

She does, and that's a fact! 

31 



Says Mrs. Brook of Mrs. Cook: 

"I wish she'd ever try 
To keep her kids away from mine, 

They're here eternally, 
And they wont mind a single thing 

That they are told to do; 
They tease my kids outrageously. 

It makes me mad all through! 

There's my sweet Nellie, she's no hand 

To quarrel, but that Bell, 
(That's Mrs. Cook's red headed girl,) 

She simply fights with Nell! 
And Sam he quarrels with my Joe, 

They have it hand to hand. 
If she'd make her kids mind — but no — 

She simply beats the band." 

And so it goes, each mother thinks 

Her crows the very whitest. 
Her methods are the wisest ones. 

Her children are the brightest. 
And "Pot" will "call the Kettle black," 

It is so very human. 
But not a lovely trait me thinks 

In either man or woman. 

If all would let sweet charity 

Shine through each word and thought, 
The Kettle might be heard to say; 

"How nice and clean the Pot!" 
If every one would see to it, 

That they themselves were free 
From faults they see in other lives. 

What changes we would see! 
32 



THE SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS. 

Nearly two thousand years ago 

A cruel, jealous king, 
Slew infants by the hundreds — 

A most outrageous thing. 
There mother hearts were broken, 

And tears fell like the rain. 
Could words of comfort spoken 

Restore those babes again? 

What king or tyrant now would dare 

To perpetrate such crime? 
Could you believe that thousands 

Are murdered in our time? 
That human hearts would give consent 

Merely for greed of gain 
In this enlightened land of ours 

To childhood's death or pain? 

You cannot believe? Then listen: 

I'll tell the tale I heard, 
And I wish I could say truly 

'Twas false in every word. 
In factories where thousands 

Of people earn their bread, 
The profits are much greater 

Where children work, 'tis said. 
And in the mining districts 

Small children labor there, 
Down in the grime and darkness, 

Away from light and air. 
Long days these children labor, 

For them no school or play. 
But dwarfed in mind and body 

They work day after day. 
33 



And even nights these infants, 

Who should be snug in bed, 
Are made to work with drooping eyes, 

And weary aching head. 
"What wonder if these weary ones 

Heed not the dangers nigh? 
Small limbs are mangled, bodies crushed, 

They're taken home to die! 

Or worse, to live — a helpless thing 

With all life's values fled, 
Dependent, suffering, crippled, 

'Twere better to be dead! 
And what of those who still must live 

In spite of pain and tears, 
Unmarred except by ceaseless toil 

Of much too tender years? 

What citizens, think you they make 

Thus dwarfed in soul and mind? 
Can they, or can their children 

Be a blessing to mankind? 
"Are there no laws," you ask, "for these?" 

Not yet, in every state 
In many weak and ill enforced. 

Easy to violate. 

A drunken, lazy father may 

Put little ones to work. 
He doesn't mind false swearing 

If labor he may shirk. 
And the wealthy corporations 

Must have their labor cheap. 
What chance has helpless childhood, 

*' 'Twixt the devil and the deep?" 

34 



What wonder that our blood should boil 

With very righteous wrath? 
What wonder women want to vote, 

And help to clear the path 
That tender feet may walk unbruised 

O'er life's too stormy way? 
The Slaughter of the Innocents 

Should cease without delay. 



^ 



MEDITATIONS OF A PIONEER. 



(Lyman County, S. D., July, 1904.) 

And this is the home of a pioneer, 
Where once the Indian chased the deer. 
Where the buffalo roamed o'er plain and hill 
And wild birds tempted the arrows skill; 
Where the swift canoe with its dark skinned guide, 
Down streamlets fair, were seen to glide. 
Where man, and bird, and beast were wild, 
And each alike was nature's child. 

But times swift march and white man's hand. 
Have wrought vast changes o'er the land, 
Wild beasts no longer freely roam, 
The plains once their and nature's home. 
The red man's hunting ground is ^one, 
And he himself is ''moving on." 
The daring cow-boy takes his place 
Contented herds rich pastures grace. 

35 



Now comes the hopeful pioneer, 

And plants his household banner here; 

Here breaks the virgin prairie sod, 

Undaunted casts his seed abroad. 

The lonel}^ coyote's mournful lay 

Is answered by the hounds deep bay. 

And should a rattler sound alarm 

He's quickly killed, and where's the harm? 

The sun and rain but aid his toil, 
His seed is sown on fertile soil, 
For wife and babes he has a home 
Where monthly rent bills never come. 
The children frolic in the sun; 
Grow brown and healthy everyone. 
O'er hill and plain they gaily ride, 
Upon the pony's back astride. 

From sun, and earth, and clouds, and air. 
One breathes in vigor everywhere. 
The dome o'er head so deeply blue 
Smiles down upon the broadened view. 
Of varied green o'er hill and plain. 
Sun-kissed the hills smile back again. 
The sunset's beauty, who can paint.'* 
Colors are pallid, words are faint. 

Is this enough.'* Our hopes still soar. 
Like "Oliver" we're wanting ''more, " 
We want the railway's magic power 
To make of this a lordly dower, 
Cities and towns will then appear. 
Churches and schools our hearts will cheer 
The busy wires will bring us news. 
And we'll have all the world to use. 

36 



This cheerful prospect soon we'll see, 
(In this the papers all agree) 
And so the patient pioneer, 
With this bright hope his heart to cheer, 
Will break the sod, and sow the seed, 
Horses, and cows, and pigs will feed. 
And make a home for child and wife 
An independent farmer's life. 

THE SAN FRANCISCO DISASTER. 



Behold a nation is mourning, 

The whole wide world is stricken 
With grief and dismay, o'er the city 

With death and disaster so smitten. 
Like an infant safely cradled 

In a mother's tender arms 
Sleeps the city in its splendor, 

Unaware of all alarms. 

Then there comes an awful swaying — 

Such a sickening, sudden shock 
And each heart stands still with terror. 

While the whole earth seems to rock. 
Oh, the long eternal moments! 

Can it be it was but three.-* 
To those dazed and stricken people 

It was like eternity. 

Wild and wilder grows the tumult, 
Loud and louder crack and boom. 

Shrieks of terror, groans of anguish, 
Rising like the day of doom. 

Who can picture such a horror.'' 
Who imagine scenes so dire? 
37 



But alas their cup of anguish 

Was brimmed o'e,r by streams of lire! 

Hither, thither fly the victims, 

Dazed, and blind, with terror wild, 
Tumult, chaos, prayers and sobbing. 

Mothers calling, ''Save my child!" 
Men are hastening to the rescue. 

Brave and calm, though pale with dread, 
Life imperilled, but undaunted 

By the chaos round them spread. 

Fireswept, shaken, scarred and blackened 

San Francisco is not dead. 
Generous hands reach out to help her. 

Homeless ones are clothed and fed. 
Swift as wires can flash the message. 

Plans for help and rescue fly. 
Bounteous gifts, and help unstinted. 

Shows a heartfelt sympathy. 

Pessimism stares and blushes. 

And no longer can deny. 
That the milk of human kindness 

Is no myth of days gone by. 
Strange how days of storm and trouble 

Bring earth's heroes to the light. 
Through the gloom of deadly peril 

Shines their courage clear and bright. 

San Francisco, rise in splendor. 

Thou hast shown a courage fine. 
Rise, and triumph o'er disaster. 

Trusting in the Power Divine. 
Hand of God! We cannot stay Thee, 

Nor thy wisdom understand. 
But we trust thy plans shall bring us 

Out of loss a blessing grand. 

38 



GOING WEST, 

(to friends we are leaving.) 



Yes, of course we're glad we're going 

Where such health and wealth abound, 

Where the sun is always shining, 

And the politics are sound, 

Where the fish and game are plenty, 

(Though to shoot we would not dare;) 

And the labor is a pleasure. 

We would wish our friends to share; 

Where the Saratoga waters 

Find a rival in the west. 

And the fragrant, gentle breezes 

Are like "Araby the blest,"— 

But though skies were never clearer, 

And kind friends may there be found. 

We shall never find them dearer — 

Though we search the whole world round, 

Than the dear home-friends that gather 

'Round us here before we part. 

And whose mem'ry we shall cherish 

Always in our inmost heart. 

Now right here let us assure you, 

That a hearty welcome waits 

Friends who may for health or pleasure 

Seek an entrance to our gates. 

Should you slight our invitation 

When you're visiting Charles Mix, 

You would never be forgiven 

'Till you cross the River Styx. 



39 



DAKOTA VS. WISCONSIN. 



In 1901 several families imigrated from Wisconsin to South 
Dakota. At a reunion of these on Thanksgiving Day, the fol- 
lowing greeting from Mrs. Olyette Ellis was read and is given here 
by her permission, the authors reply follows. 

THANKSGIVING GREETING. 

Ah, ah! You thought you would escape 

My ceaseless rhyming prattle, 
When you went off where people can 

Raise nothing else than cattle; 
But no; my muse bobs up again, 

Just as it did of old, 
When you were living in the land 

Of honey, milk and gold. 

But you'll forgive my muse, I know, 

(Since Pm so far away) 
For thus intruding on your board. 

Upon Thanksgiving day — 
Dear Windsorites, I pity you, 

I really do indeed — 
That when Wisconsin people feast 

You have such meagre feed. 

But make the best of it, dear friends. 

Your nice jack rabbit stew, 
Is good enough for king or queen. 

It's rich and savory too; 
Don't think of turkey any more. 

Of cranberries and '*sich" 
Buffalo berry sauce is good — 

Dakota water's rich. 
40 



Be thankful that there's land, and land 
As fa-a-ar as you can see, — 

But old-time friends, I wish you here 
This day, to dine with me; 

I have a chicken on the board 

Baked crisp — tho' most too brown; 

And sweet white bread — a trifle dry — 
I purchased it in town. 

I might have had a turkey too, 

(Tho' they roost rather high) 
But I've bologna good and moist. 

And rich dried apple pie, 
I thought I wouldn't bother now 

With pudding or with cake — 
We have such things so common here 

No treat for us they make. 

I have a hollowed scallop squash 

That's heaped to overflow 
With hazelnuts and apples dried; 

And pop corn, white as snow. 
And o'er its sides droops gracefully 

Green leaves of caraway; 
O, I do wish 3^ou here, dear friends. 

This bright Thanksgiving day. 

At Baxter's, Claude on turkey dines, — 

But I prefer a chicken. 
Because — because — the bones are small. 

And therefore easy pickin' — 
Now I must put the coffee on, 

For it is nearly noon; 
And grandpa's folks and Millers too, 

Will be here very soon. 

41 



Mr. Ellis has been in and viewed 

My nice Thanksgiving spread, 
I will not quote to ears polite, 

The many words he said; 
The sum was, he'd a mind to go 

To Herlings for his dinner — 
Which proves him, you must all agree, 

A most unthankful sinner. 

In fancy, I can see you all. 

And hear each merry jest — 
May be, a spark of envy glows 

To-day, within my breast — 
But any way — good luck to you — 

Don't kill yourselves, I pray. 
By gorging on your luscious feast 

This glad Thanksgiving day. 

MORAL 

Of course there is a moral hid 

Within this little fable. 
But I'll leave you to guess it out. 

The best that you are able. 
Nov. 27, 1902. Olyette Ellis, 

Windsor, Wisconsin. 

REPLY TO MRS. ELLIS. 



Dear friend, your greeting was well received 

By those on Thanksgiving assembled. 
The shouts of laughter were loud and long, 

The old house fairly trembled; 
It had to be read over and over again, 

And I was then and there requested 
To return thanks— and some other things 

That haven't quite digested. , 

42 ♦ 



The kindly feeling you there express 

Was warmly appreciated, 
And your good wishes for "Windsorites," 

Most truly reciprocated, 
But when of pity, you speak, dear friend. 

We protest with indignation. 
**Let facts just speak for themselves," say we 

On this important occasion. 

We cannot pass unnoticed by, 

The heresies you utter 
About our glorious "Sunshine State;" 

This ''land of bread and butter," 
"Nothing but cattle" can we raise? 

Don't deceive yourself, dear poet, 
We raise enough for a Thanksgiving spread 

If you only did but know it. 

'Tis true jack rabbit stew is good, 

Buffalo berry sauce is invitin' 
These luxuries we Windsorites 

Must always take delight in, 
Because of yore we never had 

The privilege and pleasure, 
Of adding these to our menu. 

In even the smallest measure. 

Now we would have you know just what 

We really had for dinner, 
A menu that might satisfy 

The most ungrateful sinner. 
There was chicken nicely roasted 

And delicious chicken pie, 
A great turkey on a platter. 

That would surely catch your eye. 

43 



Nice roast beef in dainty slices, 

Dressing, gravies too, galore, 
Mashed potatoes, yes and turnip. 

Squash and beets, who'd ask for more? 
Still they added sauce and pickles, 

Celery and jellies sweet. 
And the lightest, sweetest white bread, 

Made from nice Dakota wheat. 

Beans and brown bread too were loaded 

On the table smoking hot. 
Though the beans were from Wisconsin, 

The corn that made the bread was not; 
Then for dessert, pies were furnished. 

Mince and apple, very nice. 
Fruit and nuts and lots of candy. 

More perhaps than you'd think wise. 

Last of all came cakes and ice eream, 

Fruit and nut cake, \ ery fine. 
And the ice cream fairly melted 

In our mouths, a certain sign 
Of its richness. It is certain 

That our number, twenty-four. 
Could not half devour the goodies, 

This the children did deplore. 

Now dear friend you see your pity 

Was a little bit misplaced, 
But your warning that we gorge not, 

Was more timely, none were laced. 
And we wonder how we ever 

Lived to tell the thrilling tale, 
But the fact is all are thriving. 

Now with envy are you pale? 
44 



Dear old friend excuse this boasting, 

You're to blame for very much, 
Even the mildest, sweetest tempered, 

(May I name myself as such?) 
Will rebel when such aspersions 

Reach their tired, unwilling ears. 
May Thanksgivings rich and bounteous 

Crown and bless your future years. 



^ 



TAKE COURAGE. 



God's ways are not ours, 

And the way may seem long 
For the conquest of right. 

And the crushing of wrong; 
But httle by little, 

The truth makes its way; 
Then with hearts full of courage 

Still labor and pray. 



45 



FOUND! 

At last, at last! They've found the Pole? 

The world is wild with joy, 

The U. S. eagle soars and screams 

And boasts like any boy. 

At last the mystery is solved 

And now they know it all; 

It is an ocean dense with ice 

On top of this great ball. 

And for this wondrous knowledge gained 

Hundreds of lives were lost, 

In heaps of gold and tortured hearts 

Pray who can count the cost? 

And now 'tis found one might suppose 

The world would have a rest. 

But no, they're getting ready now 

To start another quest! 

The South Pole must be found, and then 

The earth's interior bored 

Clean through into the other side 

Till all has been explored. 

And still unsatisfied, where next? 

Of course they'll go to Mars, 

And when they've "done" the planets 

Explore a million stars. 

There really is no end in sight 
To man's ambitious schemes; 
E'en now we see accomplished facts 
That once were wildest dreams. 
So man will dream, and soar, and climb 
And lavish lives and gold 
And conquer worlds 'til worlds are scarce 
That man don't have and hold. 

46 



ONLY A LITTLE. 



Only a little here and there, 
No wonder the work seems small, 
But if seeds have been sown 
Where weeds would have grown, 
'Tis better than nothing at all. 

Only a little, with many prayers 

From hearts that have felt the need 

That God's love divine 

On His work may shine, 

And tears have watered the seed. 

Only a little, but who can tell 
How many a tempted soul 
Has been helped to win 
The battle within, 
And has reached a higher goal? 

Only a little, but only he 

Who knows all things doth ken 

How much will grow 

Of the seed we sow 

In the hearts of the children of men. 

Only a little, but God will bless 

The worker and the soil; 

With his dear smile 

It is worth the while 

In the harvest field to toil. 

Only a little: the field is white, 

And the need is very sore; 

Let us do our best, 

Nor idly rest 

Till the harvest time is o'er. 

47 



WORK. 

When my souls in commotion, 
A tempest-tossed ocean, 
O, this is my lotion: 

A dose of hard work. 

When thought on thought presses 
'Mid doubts and distresses. 
Naught calms, soothes and blesses 
Like plenty of work. 

When grief the soul tosses 
With anguish of losses. 
We best bear our crosses. 
By keeping at work. 

A soul of much leisure 
Seeks vainly for pleasure 
And loses this treasure: 
Contentment at work. 

Our rest is the sweetest, 
Our joys the completest. 
Our happiness greatest. 

When earned by hard work. 

Then bursting each fetter 
Make this world your debtor 
By making it better 

Because of your work. 



48 



A DREAM. 



I dreamed a dream the other night 
That was so wild and fearful 

('Twas caused, no doubt by what I ate; 

Plum pudding, pie and Christmas cake) 

It caused my soul to fear and quake 
And woke me sad and tearful. 

I dreamed it was the Sabbath Day, 
The sun shone in his beauty; 

I started out to find my way 

Where old and young, the grave and gay 

Were wont to meet to learn the way 
To righteousness and duty. 

As I went on, all things seemed strange 
And I was filled with wonder: 

Before the parsonage, what a change! 

Dogs, men, and boys, and beer kegs range, 

And noise was rife; it was so strange 
I stood quite still to ponder. 

But fearing I might be too late. 

My steps again I hurried. 
My feelings were in such a state; 
And my astonishment so great, 
I stopped not till I reached the gate 

That led among the buried. 

But here my heedless steps I stayed — 

My heart was loudly beating — 
Here numerous cattle calmly strayed, 
And noisy boys fought, swore, and played. 
Amazed, indignant, and dismayed, 
I lost no time retreating. 
49 



I started for the church, but found 

There was no church before me! 
There was a house from which the sound 
Of noisy oath and jest went round, 
Vice reigned unchecked on holy ground! 
The heavens grew darker o'er me. 

I woke with one long, shuddering cry — 

My dream — was it a warning? 
What would it mean to you and I, 
Should these, our priceless blessings fly 
And Gospel Grace should pass us by 
Some dreadful Sunday morning? 

It seems to me a meaning lies 

'Neath this grotesque illusion; 
I fear that we too lightly prize 
The blessings right before our eyes : 
Should they take flight, we'd realize 
They were no fond delusion. 

Can we concieve how much we owe 
To Christian truth and teaching 

That makes our lives and laws to grow 

Toward peace and righteousness? We know 

That a large debt we surely owe 

To those that do the preaching! 




50 



THE TWO MOTHERS. 



(From true incidents related by Mrs. Peck 
Missionary to China.) 

The baby was dead! Three babies before 

Had lived its brief little day, 
Then grim death had entered the poor mother's 
door, 

And bore her sole treasure away. 

Such anguish had torn that grief stricken heart — 

She never could bear it again! 
So the small tender limbs were rended apart 

Scattered far and wide o'er the plain. 

Lest the spirit that lived in that infant breast 

Should enter another child too 
And that one be taken as had all the rest 

So she tried to prevent it, would you, 

If you thought by that act another dear child 
Might of your stricken life be a part. 

And death might not snatch the infant that smiled 
Sweet sunshine right into your heart.'' 

But hark! From another low hut comes a cry, 

Another dear baby is dead. 
Must this one be scattered, in fragments to lie.-* 

We shudder with horror and dread! 

But this mother's lips are moving in prayer, 
She has carried her sorrows to God! 

Her heart though bereft rests trustingly there, 
As meekly she bows 'neath the rod. 

51 



To the house-mother who shares her grief and her 
faith 

She says, "Do you think 'twould be wrong 
To bury our darling now lying in death 

Though a girl, with a prayer and a song?" 

"She has been baptized like a Christian you know 

And for all, even girls Jesus died. 
If God doesn't mind, 'twould comfort me so." 

"It cannot be wrong," is replied. 

With her own loving hatnds a small grave is made 

In a corner invitingly near. 

They laid the baby there, then knelt there and 
prayed 

A prayer Heav'n listened to hear. 

Two mothers. One sunk in heathendom's night, 

By superstition oppressed, 
The other just learning to walk in the light — 

Which life think you is more blest? 




52 



BE OF GOOD CHEER. 

Be of good cheer: a cheerful smile 

Will help where e'er it goes, 
'Twill warm, and cheer the saddest heart 

As sunshine melts the snows. 
You can not smile.'* You've had bad luck.-* 

Well, brother, so have we. 
So here's our hand, and with it goes 

A smile of sympathy. 

Be of good cheer: what is the use 

To frown when you can smile.-* 
If you can't smile, then laugh; you'll find 

That it is worth your while. 
A frown may cause another frown 

Forbidding as your own, 
But smile, and smiles come back to you, 

Smiles do not live alone. 

Be of good cheer: 'twill help you on 

In all life's enterprise, 
And it will help your neighbor, too: 

A cheerful soul is wise. 
Be of good cheer; a hearty laugh 

That shakes you to your shoes 
Will do more good than medicine 

And drive away the blues. 



53 



THE FIRE. 



(In which two hves were lost.) 
A fierce storm is raging, dreary the hour! 
The mad wind is howling, most dreadful its power, 
But above the loud roar of the tempest I hear 
A hoarse cry resounding that chills me with fear; 
'Tis the dread cry of fire! And I see that my room 
Is alight with the red glare portentous of doom; 
I haste to the window and gazing behold 
The Furies combined to work mischief untold! 

The firemen are hast'ning with flying feet 

The dread foe of humanity boldly to meet, 

Grandly they rally, and bravely they fight. 

While shudd'ring I gaze grown sick at the sight. 

But why do they pause as upward they gaze, 

While the fierce winds grow fiercer and higher the 
blaze? 

Look! Up in the window a white form they see, 

A shrill voice is calling in dire agony! 

Quick! Bring a ladder! O, dreadful the fate 

If thus one must perish, but alas 'tis to late! 

The fierce flames and the smoke no fireman could 

pass. 
No hope for the doomed ones, Alas, O Alas! 
On rolls the dread monster, wave after wave. 
Till it seems to but mock the brave effort to save, 
More awful the grandeur, and fiercer the fight 
Till the brightness of noonday illumines the night! 

The fire is over, the danger is past, 
The conquering fire-fiend is conquered at last. 
O'er the bright hopes of life and prosperity's smile 
Lies a black mass of ruins, a funeral pile. 

54 



LAYING THE CORNER-STONE. 

AUGUST l8, 1895. 



Token Church. 

What means this stone, this simple stone 

Of unpretending grey? 
Whence comes the magnetizing power 
That draws you here to-day? 
*Tis but a stone. A wayside rock 
Might hold much more of grace. 
What means it then? Why does it hold 
Your fond and reverent gaze? 

The tale is long that might be told 

Of brave, untiring zeal, 
Of Christ-like love that gave itself 

Seeking another's weal. 
The tale might tell of trembling hopes, 

Of faithful, earnest prayer, 
Of labors long without reward. 

Of hours of anxious care. 

And then — 'twould tell of brighter hopes. 

Of glorious victory, 
Of faith once like a mustard seed, 

Now like a giant tree 
Twould tell of how the little band 

Grew large, and larger still, 
Until they overflowed the place 

That once they could not fill. 

55 



Then Faith clasped hands with Hope and cried; 

''We will arise and build; 
Our God whose temple it shall be 

Will see this plan fulfilled," 
And now, this band is here to-day 

To lay this corner-stone, 
And on this small beginning- raise 

A temple God shall own. 

No wonder that this simple stone 

Should seem a holy thing,- 
No wonder many happy hearts 

To-day rejoice and sing; 
For on this consecrated stone 

Shall rise a building fair — 
A place in which to worship God 

With hymns of praise and prayer. 

God bless this stone and raise this church; 

And may His blessing pour 
Upon the church and people here 

In a continuous shower. 
May all their works be works of love, 

May faith and hope abound, 
And may their zeal for God and souls 

Extend the world around. 

May never a spot, or wrinkle, 

Or blemish find its way 
To mar the beauty of this church 

So blest of God to-day, 
And thus a glorious, ransomed church 

Around the father's Throne, 
Shall they appear who here have made 

Of Christ, their Corner-stone. 

56 



DEDICATION POEM. 



(Geddes Cong. Church, Geddes, S. D. 1901.) 

To Thee, O Lord, we consecrate 

This temple for Thy praise, 
Here will we worship, here will we serve. 

And here our songs we'll raise. 
With solemn gladness in our hearts 

This house we fain would make 
Thy dwelling-place, where we may oft 

Of heavenly things partake. 

A house of God, a sacred place, 

O may it be, indeed! 
A place where weary, sin-sick souls 

May find the rest they need, 
A place where holiness is found 

And love and peace abide. 
Where rich and poor may serve their Lord 

In concord side by side. 

But never, Lord, may there be room 

In this Thy dwelling-place, 
For bitter envyings, or strife, 

Or pride or selfishness. 
But may it ever be a place 

Where love and zeal are found, 
And faith and works together pro\ e, 

Riches of grace abound. 

57 



In this fair city, may this house 

A blessing be to all, 
The stranger's home, a resting-place 

Where weary ones may call 
From it may streams of blessings flow, 

Unnumbered, deep and wide, 
*Till all mankind Thy name shall know. 

And Thou be glorified 

For this, dear Lord we dedicate 

This temple unto Thee, 
To glorify Thy holy name. 

And bless humanity. 
Then let Thy spirit richly fall 

On all who worship here, 
For blessed is the church who feels 

Thy presence ever near. 



^ 



THE TEMPEST. 



In the woodland and the valley. 

On the mountain's lofty crest. 
On the prairie's ample bosom. 

On the ocean's mighty breast. 
Comes the storm with fierce abandon. 

Loud the shrieking of the gale 
Thunders crash, and lightening flashing 

Tells a grim and awful tale. 

58 



Hark! the monarchs of the forest 

Hardy pine and sturdy oak 
Groan and crash beneath the tempest 

Slain beneath its mighty stroke, 
Fearful sounds come from the mountains, 

Cloud obscured, like weeds of woe, 
Giant boulders, held for ages. 

Loose their grip and plunge below. 

Living creatures hie for shelter 

Man and beast in terror fly, 
Fly to death, perhaps, for truly 

None can tell where dangers lie. 
But the man with God within him 

Cries for help to God above. 
And the answer cometh surely: 

"Everlasting arms of love." 

Thou who stillest e'en the tempest 

Hear the helpless cry to Thee, 
And a hush comes o'er the mountain, 

Calmness o'er the raging sea. 
'Midst life's tempest and its dangers 

There's a refuge always nigh. 
To Thee, blessed '*Rock of Ages," 

Gladly we to shelter fly. 




59 



A MEMORIAL DAY POEM 




(Read at a Memorial Day Service 1905.) 

Why should we honor the nation's dead? 

Why do we fondly claim 
These heroes brave to be our own? 

Wh}^ do we give them fame? 
These are questions for youth to ask, 

And the history gives reply: 
Our glorious land, these stars and stripes, 

They saved for you and I. 

No wonder then that our hearts should thrill 

With gratitude and pride. 
Or that our hands with fairest flowers 

Should honor those who died; 
No wonder that we should honor all 

Who left mother, home and wife 
For hardship, suffering and death. 

To save a nation's life. 

60 



We honor those leaders who won a name 

That lives in history: 
We honor the soldier unknown to fame, 

Loyal and brave was he; 
We honor the living and the dead, 

The boys who wore the blue, 
Who bravely faced a gallant foe, 

To them is honor due. 

There are others, too, we should not forget, 

Who never wore the blue, 
Mothers and sisters, sweethearts, wives. 

Were brave and loyal too, 
They bid * 'God speed" though their hearts were 
wrung — 

Theirs was the harder part 
To watch and wait while bullets fell 

That falling pierced their heart. 

How great the cost, how vast the worth 

Of all we owe our sires! 
This broad, free land, our glorious flag. 

Our gratitude inspires! 
We are grateful for our Union — 

Inseparably one. 
And that our brother, once our foe, 

To loyalty is won. 

All honor to a Fitzhugh Lee, 

Whose loyalty is proved; 
Who died a noble patriot. 

Honored and well beloved; 
No greater victory has been won 

By either blue or gray. 
Than that of growing brotherhood 

'Twixt North and South today. 
6i 



Our glorious land, these stars and stripes— 

Ours at such countless cost! 
No prouder heritage than this 

Was ever won or lost ; 
But is there no foe for us to light? 

Have we no work to do? 
Can no one serve his country well 

Except he wears the blue? 

Ah, yes! there never was greater need 

Of honest men and just, 
Who daring to face a powerful foe, 

Will not betray their trust; 
Heroes are needed who will work 

With might of voice and pen, 
To crush corruption, fraud and greed, 

And free our land again. 

Are you ready today to volunteer? 

Your country needs you all 
Who'll stand for justice, truth and right, ' 

'Till Giant Wrong shall fall; 
Let every one who loves our flag. 

And our great, glorious land. 
Use voice and vote and mighty pen. 

To stay corruption's hand. 

When men are free from power of greed 

And none oppress the poor, 
And manhood's worth is more than gold 

Our country is secure; 
Then rest not on your laurels, men, 

'Till ours indeed shall be 
A land that we are proud to own, 

Land of the brave and free. 
62 




TRIBUTE TO LINCOLN. 



His is the richest life who gives and gives 

Of his own self to aid his brother-man, 
His glad soul heaping up the wealth that lives 

When this brief life has measured out its span. 
Life's riches then is not a heap of gold, 

But loves sweet service to a soul in need. 
Such wealth increases till it can't be told! 

Such live's enriched, enrich the world indeed! 

Do not these lines describe the wealth of soul 

Of our loved Lincoln? Pouring out his life 
In generous portion, *til a grand, sweet whole 

Is offered up, and he, beyond all strife 
Enriched our nation, yea and all the earth. 

With fragrant memories of his golden deeds! 
His life is riches of the highest worth. 

Grand lives like his our country ever needs. 

63 



^n^ma of tl|f i^tnvt 
^amt 




SONG OF THE HOME AND HEART. 



Songs of the home and the heart — 
Those are the songs that are dear, 

The heart beats warm at the thought of home, 
The home to the heart is so near. 

Then "Home Sweet Home," let us sing it 
Let us sing of its joys and cares 

And the heart of the world will feel it, 
And think the story is theirs. 

For the whole wide world is a homestead. 

And all mankind are akin — 
Each life has its joys and sorrows 

And holds them the heart within. 

Then touch one note on the heart strings 

Of this great throbbing earth 
And others will feel its quiver 

And will answer with tears or mirth. 

Tears for the note of sadness, 

Smiles for each joyful strain 
Each heart responds with a note of its own 

That will echo back again. 

65 



TO MY OLD PLAID SHAWL. 

Thou aged veteran, frayed, and worn and thin. 
What years of faithful service thine has been. 
Had'st thou been made too fine for daily wear. 
To please the eye with colors rich and rare. 
The tender memories that around thee cling 
Like the sweet breath the summer breezes bring 
Could not be thine — 'twould not be thine to shield 
From storm and cold, and warmest comfort yield. 

In youth I owned thee, and I felt thy worth 
When air-built castles seem so near to earth, 
When silvery clouds the stars revealed, not hid, 
And hope smiled brightly as all nature did; 
I laughed to scorn cold winter's icy blast, 
And in thy folds I did but wrap me fast — 
So long and so wide, so soft and so warm, 
How well thy soft comforts enveloped my form. 

Thy service oft h-ath been both quaint and queer, 
Yet none have said that thou had'st left thy sphere; 
In health and illness thou hast had a share, 
Enveloped infancy with tender care, 
O'erspread the floor while baby learned to creep, 
Or in thy warm embrace he fell asleep; 
How soft the breath that gently stirred thy fold. 
What precious trust was given to thee to hold! 



When illness comes, the children one and all 
For thee as for a friend doth quickly call, 
And think that if thy folds but wrap them round 
They'll soon be cured of all their ills profound. 
And when with chairs ranged round a tent they 

spread 
"With thee outstretched to farthest length o'erhead. 
How could I rob them of their cup of bliss? 
Too seldom do we see such happiness. 

But changes come, and time hath surely cast 
More sombre shades around us both at last; 
I have grown stout — yes, I will own the truth — 
While thou art thinner than in days of youth. 
Yet still like thee how checkered are my ways 
With all the light and shade of passing days — 
Now dark and now light, now joy and now woe, 
The warp and the woof of my years as they go. 

When fortune smiled (her fleeting smiles were rare) 

I looked for friends, and lo! my friends were there; 

But when the fickle jade her smile withdrew, 

I have known friends whose smiles would vanish too. 

With thee, dear faithful friend, it is not so; 

Thy warmth is felt when adverse winds doth blow. 

Thy clinging folds doth friendly warmth impart. 

No cynic need tell me thou hast no heart. 

And when a dear one of the household band 
Grew pale and cold beneath death's icy hand. 
Against this throbbing heart, this anguished breast, 
Thine ample folds that dying form caressed. 
Imparting the last ray of warmth he found 
Till heaven with angel vesture wrapped him round. 
Can I forget, dear friend, thy ofBce kind? 
A friend in need is but too hard to find. 

67 



Faithful and true wherever duty calls, 
Thou art to me the very queen of shawls; 
No shawl of Persian richness e'er can vie 
With thee in beauty to my partial eye. 
What beauty is there that can well compare 
With life well spent in faithful service rare? 
O, happy I if, when life's work is done. 
I too have earned the plaudit of **Well done.* 



^ 



HOLIDAY GREETING. 

(To New England Friends.) 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 
To you New England friends so dear. 
Let the thousand miles or more be spanned, 
Let heart greet heart, and hand clasp hand. 
Let love speak out, and soul lips meet 
In a kiss of affection warm and sweet. 
And true as the heart that throbs and swells 
As it sighs for its native hills and dells. 
Some say those hills are rocky and steep. 
The soil is sterile, and cold winds sweep 
Around New-England's rock-bound shore 
Where wild waves dash with angry roar. 
But ah — on sacred ground they tread 
Like footsteps over the grave of the dead; 
That soil — those hills — that rocky stand — 
They are my own dear native land! 
Those rocks and hills in grandeur rise 
Turret on turret toward the skies, 
Sun-kissed with stately forests crowned, 

68 



While living torrents leap and bound 
Down chasm, gorge, and precipice, 
Till down some deep, and dark abyss 
'Tis lost to sight, till down below 
Is seen the streamlets rapid flow 
Speeding onward towards the sea. 
As time speeds on to eternity. 
I love New England's vales and streams, 
Their beauty haunts me in my dreams, 
I love those hills — that rocky shore — 
I long to hear the ocean's roar. 
I long to see those white-capped waves. 
Their rythmic, restless motion laves 
The rugged shore or sandy beach 
And leaves their trophies in my reach. 
But more I long dear friends to greet 
And hold with them communion sweet, 
But no — of this I must not speak 
My eyes are dim and strangely weak, 
I must not cloud the Christmas cheer 
With the suspicion of a tear 
Sweet memories that fondly cling 
Round Christmas tide to you I'd bring; 
Nor time nor space can wholly part 
Friends who still cling, heart unto heart. 
Then may the gladsome holidays 
Bring smiles of joy to each loved face, 
And heaven send rich blessings down 
The glad New Year to fitly crown. 




A CHRISTMAS MEMORY. 



(To My Mother.) 
Dear mother, Christmas is drawing near 

And my heart is with you today, 
How gladly I'd smooth your pathway here 
And give you a share of Christmas cheer — 

But you are miles and miles away! 

What can I give that dear mother would like? 

I ask it again, and again; 
For well I know her wants are supplied, 
And she needeth nothing I can provide, 

The thought is almost pain. 

Needeth nothing? the thought comes back 

As my heart is with feeling wrought, 
Tho' the needs of the body are simple and few. 
Of the heart's best gifts I have one for you; 
A loving and tender thought. 

And well I know your loving heart 

Can never find amiss 
The loving word and tender thought, 
Into this simple pattern wrought. 

From the child you may not kiss. 

'Tis the Christmas time reminds us all 

Of the greatest gift of Heaven, 
The Son whose love exceeded all; 
A gift of wealth, that was too small 

And so Himself was given. 

And as that glorious gift you share, 

My smaller gift receive 
Of tender thought, and loving word. 
As on this Birthday of our Lord 

Out of my heart 1 give. 
70 



A MOTHER'S LULLABY. 



Lullaby, lullaby, 

Let us sing it, you and I, 

Let us croon our sleepy song 

Making dreams so sweet and long. 

Refrain: 

Lullaby, lullaby 
'Tis our sleepy tune 
Lullaby lullaby 
Dreamland cometh soon. 

Lullaby, lullaby, 
Gently close your sleepy eye, 
Slowly swinging to and fro 
As to dreamland now we go. 

Refrain. 

Soft and low, sing it slow 
Eyes are lost 'neathlids of snow, 
See him smiling, angels near 
Whisper in the baby's ear. 

Refrain. 

O the bliss of the kiss 
Sealing slumber such as this! 
Softly press it on his brow, 
Baby's gone to dreamland now. 

Refrain. 



71 



MISSED. 

Still he's missed, tho' years have vanishedl 

Since my beautiful first-born, 
Who in my heart woke mother love, 

From my arms was rudely torn, 
How bitter was the parting then 

None but a lonely mother knows, 
How wild rebellion in my heart 

Surged and throbbed with mighty throes! 

Could I, could I, ever bear it 

When they hid him from my sight? 
Closed the eyes whence light had faded, 

Folded tiny hands, so white? 
Ere he went, in baby language: 

''Heaven is beautiful," he sighed. 
Then the angels stooped and took him 

From my arms — and so — he died. 

How I missed his sweet caresses, 

Missed those eyes so deeply blue, 
Fixed on mine with fond assurance, 

Well my mother-heart he knew, 
Still he's missed, tho' years have vanished, 

Still I miss his clinging arms. 
Miss his loving words and kisses, 

And his many infant charms. 

But I know, I've lived to feel it. 

He is safer there than here, 
Safer from the sin and evil 

We have learned to dread and fear, 
Oft me thinks from heaven's portal 

Shines a silvery star-like gleam. 
Where he's waiting for my coming 

When I'm called to cross the stream. 
72 



MY LITTLE LOVER. 



Only a curl of sunny hair — 

But it means much more to me, 

As I gaze I dream of a picture fair, 
Shall I tell you what I see? 

I see a laughing, blue-eyed boy 
With dainty dimpled cheek. 

And rosy mouth, round which the smiles 
Are playing hide and seek. 

A broad white brow o'er hung with curls 
That dance, and toss, and shine. 

Crowning with living gold the head 
Of this small boy of mine. 

Two dimpled fists all doubled up 
Two tiny out-stretched arms. 

Ready to manfully defend 
Mamma from all alarms. 

But ah, my winsome boy is gone. 

And in his stead behold 
A stalwart youth with chestnut hair, 

Gone are the curls of gold! 

Gone is the whiteness of his brow. 

Instead a coat of tan. 
Those strong arms can protect me now 

For lo, my boy's a man! 

How strange it seems; but stranger yet 

The tale he told to me 
With look of mingled love and pride 

That thrilled my heart to see. 
73 



He told me of a maiden fair, 

And sweet as she was good, 
A maid who took his heart by storm 

With her pure womanhood. 

He told me of his love and hope 

With gladness in his tone, 
And of the holy pledge that made 

This lovely girl his own. 

O yes, I know I've heard before 

The very tale he told. 
But coming from his heart to mine 

The tale did not seem old. 

But new and strange; it seems to me 

As if 'twas yesterday 
Since he my little lover was 

And told his tale to me. 

He is my lover yet; I know 

His heart has not grown cold. 

Although a newer love has come 
He'll not forsake the old. 

God bless them both, and crown their lives 

With that rich gift, a love 
That knows no change thro' changeful years 

Like that of Heaven above. 




74 



'TILL DEATH US DO PART." 



TO C. AND K. 

Sweet and solemn is the pledge 

Binding loving heart to heart 
Thrilling with its deep intent: 

"We are one till death shall part." 
One for better, or for worse 

One for all the joys of life 
One to share its pains and ills 

One in all its cares and strife. 

Happy bridegroom! Happy bride! 

Each shall each with love requite, 
Sacred union, full, complete. 

Doth true loves and lives unite 
Blessings on your pathway wait, 

Take, and make them brighter still, 
With a purpose good and true 

You can make life what you will. 

You are one **till death do part" 

Oh how much those words should mean, 
One in all that makes a life 

Good and happy, true and clean. 
Though you may life's sorrow share 

Clouds are transient, they will fly — 
Look for sunshine, you will find 

Blessed sunshine ever nigh. 

Keep in mind the holy vow — 

Always "one till death do part," 
True to all its deep intent. 

Binding loving heart to heart. 
May your life be full of joy, 

Hearts too light to feel life's care, 
Love and laughter fill the home 

That you will together share. 

75 



THE EMPTY NEST. 



'Twas summertime, the air was sweet 

With the lavish sweetness of June, 
The busy bees were humming near, 

And the birds sang a merry tune. 
But a note of sadness ran through it all 

For my thoughts were far away 
With the loved ones who had gone from me 

In other homes to stay. 

But suddenly I became aware 

Of a shrill note in my ear, 
And a busy chirping and chattering 

'Mong the birds whose nest was near, 
'Twas the mother-bird who was scolding 

And trying with all her might 
To push the fledglings from her nest. 

And hasten them in their flight. 

**0 foolish mother-bird," Quoth I; 

"Why do you make such haste? 
Are you weary of your little ones.? 

Do you think the time a waste 
That you spend in filling gaping mouths 

With worms, and such like stuff.'* 
Do you not know that an empty nest 

Will be yours quite soon enough.'"' 

**Your little ones will grow and thrive 

And get beyond your care. 
And a mate will come with a sweet low call, 

And your nest will be left quite bare. 
O mother bird it seems to me 

A very cruel thing 
To push your nestlings out, and out, 

And force them to take wing." 

1^ 



But the mother bird by instinct taught 

Is wiser far than we 
And knows when they must learn to fly 

And guards them tenderly, 
No foolish fondness keeps her back 

From duty's stern behest, 
She knows her young will in good time 

Forsake the old home nest. 

We know that God has so designed 

Young hearts should love and mate 
But when the last dear one is gone 

The home is desolate 
But ah, there is another side 

That drives the blues away 
When letters come that bid us hope 

They'll visit us some day. 

And fill the old forsaken nest 

With laughter gay and sweet 

And the music of childish voices 
And the patter of little feet. 

And life flows back in a fuller tide: 
Our losses have been gain! 

Our kind All-Father plans to give 
Our lives more joy than pain. 




17 



MY BROTHER. 



My loving brother's gone away, 

He left us just the other day, 

The summons came, he could not stay 

With those he loved so well; 
So swift it came he could not hear 
The cry of anguish in his ear, 
He could not speak one word of cheer, 

Or breathe a fond farewell. 

He left our hearts with aching numb. 
He left our lips with anguish dumb. 
How could we bear the days to come, 

When he was gone away? 
Could I but whisper in his ear; 
**I love you, love you, brother dear," 
Alas! alas! he could not hear. 

So cold and still he lay. 

He was so dear: and yet 'twas rare 
That I to him my heart lay bare, 
Perhaps he thought I would not care 

When he was gone away. 
Oh, could I have him here once more 
I'd love him better than before 
And tell it to him o'er and o'er 

Nor miss a single day. 

That may not be, but soon, I know, 

I too shall hear the call, and go 

To meet him where no tears shall flow 

And there will be no pain, 
O, what a blessed hope to cheer 
The path of erring mortals here; 
That in another, better sphere 

We'll meet our loved again. 

78 



SMILES NOT TEARS. 

The time will come, (it ma}^ be very soon) 
When I shall leave this earthly house of mine, 
An empty useless shell, I'll lay it down. 
And all the dear familiar joys of life resign. 
Life has been sweet— this world is very fair — 
And friends are dearer than my tongue can tell, 
But when the summons comes for which I wait. 
There may not be e'en time to say farewell. ' 

'Tis better so: life is the time for smiles. 

And kindly words, and loving thoughtful deeds; 

The time to use aright my little strength 

To minister awhile to others needs. 

I would not leave behind me broken hearts 

To drop vain tears upon my silent breast. 

To miss me long, or mourn me bitterly; 

I wish not tears from those who love me best. 

But if my memor}^ bring a smile. 

My name awake a loving tender thought 

When words or deeds of mine may be recalled, 

'Tis well, I would not ask a better lot. 

To be remembered with a kindly smile, 

To live within a tender loving heart. 

Is better far than tears that fall like rain; 

Be that my happy lot when I depart. 

I do not fear to die, for well I know 

Whose Arm will bear me o'er the swelling tide, 

Dear, loving friends have passed it long ago; 

And they'll be waiting for me on the other side, 

I know it will not be so very long 

Ere those I leave will be again with me, 

Then let my farewell be a loving smile, 

And this I'd gently pass beyond the sea. 

79 



CHILDHOOD. 



Tell me not ye grown up folks 
Though you have your fun and jokes, 
That a home is half as bright, 
Where no children give delight 
With their speeches, quaint and funn}^ 
And their kisses sweet as honey. 

There's no home that's quite complete 
Where there are no dancing feet, 
Where there are no shouis of joy 
From some happy girl or boy, 
And no rippling, bubbling laughter 
Echoing through every rafter. 

Home's the sweetest place on earth; 
Sweetest joy, and birthday mirth 
Dwells within the castle wall 
Where sweet childish voices call. 
Clouds before their sunshine scatter, 
Hearts are lighter for their chatter. 

Blest the home where childhood is 
Hallowed by a mother's kiss, 
Sheltered by a father's care, 
Happy, guileless, free as air, 
Though such home be high or lowly, 
Joys within are sweet and holy. 



80 




REX. 



LITTLE MISCHIEF. 



What's little Mischief doing now? 
He's looking so demure, 
His face is innocent and grave, 
He's studying mischief, sure. 

You'd scarcely think that one small bo}^ 
Could find so much to do, 
His little hands are never still, 
Busy the whole day through. 

There's nothing that escapes his e5^es, 
They are so big and blue 
They seem to see just everything 
That you don't want them to. 

He knows where grandma keeps the cake 
And where the cookies grow. 
He likes to play with lumps of coal, 
So nice and black you know. 

He'll do the very naughtiest thing 
And look so shy and sweet! 
And then if he can make you laugh, 
His victory is complete. 

He loses things you want to find. 
He finds things you want lost. 
He climbs and falls, then climbs again, 
And never counts the cost. 

He's into every single thing 
Where he can find a way. 
He's found the way to all our hearts 
And there I think he'll stay. 

8i 



ARTHUR'S BIRTHDAY. 



Arthur woke early this morning, 
A proud and a happy boy, 

His eyes and his lips where smiling. 
His face all alight with joy. 

"I'm five years old this very day,'* 

Thus he eagerly began; 
And straight'ning up the tiny form, 

"See, mamma, I am a man!" 

"Willie must be your baby now, 

And he may wear the dresses. 
And I'll wear pants, and go to school 
And have some fun, I guesses." 

I kissed the happy little boy. 
On either cheek bestowing 

A token of the mother's love. 

That in my heart was glowing. 

"God bless my darling little man!" 
I prayed with deep emotion 

"Grant him a safe and happy voyage 
Upon life's stormy ocean. 

"May each successive birthday find 
My child increased in knowledge. 

More precious far than e'er was found 
In either school or college. 

"O, may he be indeed a man" 
In every word and action; 

A servant of the living God, 

But not of creed or faction. 

"And when his life on earth shall cease. 
With ransomed ones in heaven. 

May he a happier birthday find. 
Than e'er on earth was given." 
82 



THE BIRTHDAY. 

My little laughing brown-eyed maid 

Is ten years old today 
Ten Springs have brought their blossoms sweet 
And dropped them at this maiden's feet, 

And then have passed away. 

Ten summers gay with birds and flowers 

This little maid has seen, 
And tuneful as the sweet birds song, 
Gay as the flowers she played among. 

This little maid has been. 

And Autumns ten, have they not brought 

Their fruitage for her bliss? 
And have they not refreshed her sight 
With rainbow colors, fair and bright 

Then left her with a kiss.** 

And what have these ten Winters brought 

Beside their snow and ice.? 
Why every winter, Christmas brings 
With gifts and games, and many things 

That little girls think nice. 

So every season pleasure brings, 

But pleasure is not all, 
True happiness will not be sought. 
But when a kindly deed is wrought, 

* Twill come without a call. 

As seasons come, and seasons go. 

May every birthday find 
This little maiden growing fair 
With true soul-beauty, rich and rare 

Wisdom and grace combined. 
83 



KENNETH. 



Kenneth, you roguish Httle elf, 
You're just mischievousness itself, 
Of noisy prank and funny trick 
You're just as full as you can stick. 

The mischief shines in every curl 
That gleams and dances with each whirl 
Of busy brain, on mischief bent, 
(With only mischief 'tis content.) 

It trembles on each curling lash 
That seeks to hide the dark eyes' flash, 
When brimming o'er with quiet fun 
Over some victory you have won. 

It rides upon the saucy nose, 
Tip tilted in the air it goes. 
It plays a game of hide and seek 
With dimples in each rosy cheek. 

The smiling mouth it does not miss 
Even when lifted for a kiss. 
And that sweet dimple on your chin 
The mischief seeks to hide within. 

It tingles in each finger's end 
As on some elfin trick they bend, 
It dances in each rosy toe 
As on some merry prank they go. 

Yes, mischief reigns throughout the boy. 
Arid still he is a source cf joy. 
His every trick is very cunning. 
Though he's the biggest rogue a runningl 

84 



A STORY LOVER. 

I knew a very little boy 

With eyes so brown and merry, 
Bright curls that danced in every breeze, 

And lips red as a cherry. 
This boy had such an appetite 

For stories: "Stories please," 
I think he would forget to eat 

And just for stories tease. 

He loved to hear the stories told 

Of Joseph, and of Noah, 
And when he'd heard them twenty times 

He'd say "Tell it some more." 
And he'd remember and could tell 

You almost every word. 
With wonderful additions 

Of which you'd never heard. 

He liked to hear of little Jack 

Who killed the monstrous giant, 
He'd double up his little fists 

In manner most defiant 
And say: "I'm glad that bad old gi'nt's killed 

He was as thean as he could be. 
He'll never have another chance 

To eat up boys like me!" 

This boy is now near six feet tall, 

(I think he's growing still,) 
And he has just begun to learn 

There are giants yet to kill, 
I think he will be glad to help 

To slay old Giant Wrong, 
And make it safe for other boys 

Where ever they belong. 

85 



THE RUCK-A-TUCK. 



Three little folks, and a ruck-a-tuck, 

The kind that takes just lots of pluck, 

With lions, and bears, and "nelephants" too» 

They make such a jolly hullaballoo, 

Such hair-breadth escapes on papa's back 

He's such a nice horsey, whack, whack, whack I 

They whip him and drive him very fast, 

They know he'll land them safe at last. 

Faster and fiercer goes the fight. 

Louder and louder the squeals of delight; 

A gay little crowd, and O what luck 

When papa can stop for a ruck-a-tuck! 



^ 



TENDER-HEARTED. 



There is a winsome blue-eyed boy 
Brimful of life and glee 
Sometimes a trifle (?) noisy, 
But a loving heart has he, 
He would not give another pain. 
He would kiss all tears away 
Only when smiles again appeared 
Would he go back to play, 
Dear loving heart, as good as gold. 
Through life may you ever find 
That friends are just as true to you 
As you to them are kind. 

86 



MOTHERS KISSES. 



Baby, playing on the floor 

Where the sunshine lingers, 

Brother, shutting close the door, 
Jams the little fingers. 

Baby quick to mamma flies 
With his aching fingers, 

*Tiss it twick, mamma!" he cries; 
How the fond kiss lingers! 

Goes he to his play again 

Where the sunshine lingers, 

Mother's kisses cured the pain 
In the baby fingers. 

Wondrous cure for childhood's ills 
Are the mother's kisses! 

Sweetest balm her love distills 
With those fond caresses! 

Happy child, who feels the charm 
Of the kiss that lingers! 

Soothing with its healing balm 
Aching heart or fingers! 



87 



THE LITTLE BOY'S IDEAS. 

(As Expressed To Grandma. ) 



I love 'oo ganma 'oor so nice 
And play wiv me peep boo, 

'Oor hair is most like kittie's fur, 
I fink its mostly blue. 

I like to pat 'oor easy cheek, 
*Tis winkly like and tweer, 

Since 'oo was 'ittle boy like me 
It must have been a year! 

I like to sit up on *oor lap 

But I slip to ze floor 
*Oor lap not dess twite bid nuff. 

*Oo ought a growed some more. 

I has to go wight straight to s'eep 
When *oo sings to m^ **by lo;" 

'Oor singer is so gwumbly 
I hate to hear it go! 

But don't *oo mind zat gandma 

I loves 'oo deed I do 
Dust like cake *oo bakes for me 

i dess *Q0 likes me too. 



88 



'HOME IS THE BESTEST PLACE*" 



A little girl staid with her grandma 

While her mamma was away 
But all day long she was sober 

And could scarcely eat or play, 
Her grandma took her on her lap 

And petted, and coaxed, and kissed. 
And told nice stories but 'twas plain 

There was something that she missed. 

"I want to go home," at last she said: 

And the tears began to fall, 
But mamma's not there, my darling. 

When she comes, for you she will call, 
So grandma said; but the little one cried- 

"Home is thebestest place, 
And I'll wait there for mamma," 

And a smile lighted up her face. 

Dear little girlie, you speak the truth. 

And you are very wise 
To learn what many older ones 

Oft fail to relize 
Home is the '*bestest place" of all, 

And it was meant to be 
A type of that blest home above 

In "Our Father'?" family. 



89 



LITTLE HELPER. 

Little girl with hazel eyes 
Looking innocent and wise; 
"Little helper," is it true 
That this name belongs to you? 
Being helpful is the way 
To be happy all the day. 

Little girl with hazel eyes 
Looking innocent and wise, 
May you ever helpful be 
Growing sweet and womanly, 
In this world there'll always be 
Other's you can help, you see. 

WAITING AT THE GATE. 

Like a loving little Fate 
He was waiting at the gate. 
Come I soon, or come I late 
Still he waited at the gate, 
Shouting gladly; **Mamma's come!" 
'Twas a joyous welcome home. 

Oh! but that was long ago. 
Long he's lain beneath the snow, 
But his spirit pure will wait 
For me at the heavenly gate, 
Come I soon, or come I late, 
He'll be waiting at the gate. 

90 



l^otmB unh ^ottga Urtttpu for 



A GOLDEN WEDDING. 



(Mr. and Mrs. E. Espenett.) 
Once on a time quite long ago 

A comely ardent youth 
Wedded a maiden young and fair 

The two were one in truth, 
As hand joined hand, so heart joined heart 

By strongest bonds of love. 
And faith and hope in God brought down 

Rich blessings from above. 

The world was theirs, and love, and youth, 

And hope of heavenly bliss; 
What richer dower could mortals ask 

For wedded pair than this? 
As time passed on their joys increased 

Their lives were made complete 
By children given to their care 

And each was fair and sweet. 

Each child with tend'rest care was taught 

In ways of righteousness 
And twas their dearest prayer that each 

Might live the world to bless, 
But two of that bright band were called 

By Him who knows his own. 
How hard it is for loving hearts .-*? 

To say "Thy will be done." 
91 



So sorrows mingled with their joys 

And cares held not aloof, 
And love and faith failed hot but grew 

Each day beneath that roof. 
The years have passed— two-score and ten, 

Since they were first made one; 
And now a beautiful old age 

For them has well begun. 

Children and children's children now 

Surround this happy pair, 
With loving reverence good to see 

Each gladly claims a share 
In loving service rendered sweet 

By sacred bonds of love. 
How like a Christian home may be 

To that blest Home above! 

We know the neighbors and the friends 

Who've gathered here today 
Are glad of all the golden years 

Before this golden day. 
Of all who've known this faithful pair 

None can recount a wrong, 
But deeds of kindness, words of love, 

Of these the list is long! 

The path of the just most truly, 

Is like a shining light, 
So the path of this dear couple 

Has shed a radiance bright. 
And children, friends, and neighbors. 

Exclaim with grateful tears: 
We wish this dear good couple 

Another fifty years! 

92 



TO MRS. E. H. 



(May 9th 1902.) 
There are days that are hallowed and dear, 

There are memories tender and sweet: 
The birthday of friends that we love, 

To our hearts with joy are replete. 
How joyful the task that is given 

A birthday greeting to send 
To one who for many long years 

Has proved herself truly a friend. 

How large is the circle of friend? 

Who rejoice in this blessed day, 
And thank the Great Giver who gave 

Such a friend in this sweet month of May, 
There are those whose value we've proved, 

We know they are friends indeed 
For we prize most highly the one 

W^ho is true in the hour of need. 

And who ever knew of the time 

At the call of illness or grief, 
Our friend was not fain to forsake 

Her cares for others relief? 
There's only one person she slights, 

(She oft puts her quite on the shelf) 
That person perhaps you have guessed. 

Is her own dear unselfish self. 

Dear friend, so faithful and true 

From your grateful friends, quite a host. 
Accept our good wishes and love, 

And this will we add for a toast: 
May many more birthdays be yours. 

And each one more blest than the last. 
All the cares and sorrows of life 

Be numbered with years that are past. 

93 



A BIRTHDAY. 
(To B. F. R.) 



There are days we love to honor 

As the birthdays of the great, 
Who by their deeds of valor 

Have nobly served the state. 
'Tis well to thus remember 

With kindly, grateful thought 
Those who gave so many blessings 

With which our lives are fraught. 

But there are those we love to honor 

Who are all unknown to fame. 
Who boast no deeds heroic 

Or titles to their name 
The man we come to honor 

We call by titles dear, 
Of husband, father, neighbor, friend, 

He owns these titles clear. 

Titles of trust and honor 

Which he hath well discharged 
By love and kindness, toil and care, 

These titles he's enlarged. 
Nor need he seek a greater 

To earn our faithful love. 
Or the "Well Done" of the Father 

In the better home above. 

So wife and children, neighbors, friends 

We all would here unite 
To honor well this birthday. 

For this is good and right. 
And many happy birthdays 

May our dear friend live to see 
Well loved and honored, e'en as now 

He's very sure to be. 

94 



A TRIBUTE. 

(To Mr. and Mrs. S. H. Sabin.) 

A beautiful book lies before me, 
Its covers embossed with pure gold; 
And the strange true story within it, 
By a world famous author is told. 
The fair white page is illumined 
With the joys, and hopes of youth. 
And the title is clearly written 
In large golden letters of truth. 

The story begins at the altar, 
It does not follow the plan 
Of ending up with a wedding; 
For there is just where it began. 
It's full from cover to coyer, 
With the richest and spiciest store. 
Wit, humor and pathos, adventures, 
Heroines, and heroes galore. 

What! tell you the story? 'Twere folly 

To attempt to obey your behest. 

No pen could half do it justice. 

The story thats lived is the best. 

A real life story continued, 

Through fifty full years! How it fires 

Our souls with such sense of its grandeur 

As seldom our being inspires. 

And the story's not done, 'twill continue 
Ah, who can name the day when 
The lovely home story that thrills us, 
Shall cease to be felt among men? 

95 



To the honored and well beloved couple 
To whose home we so gladly repair, 
Our heart-felt thanks we would render, 
For the sweetness and beauty we share. 

Tis true, as the Good Book hath it, 
That man may not live to himself. 
So a true life's blessings are scattered. 
Not hoarded like sordid pelf. 
May the future years be golden, 
To this long wedded, happy pair. 
And we know in the mansions yonder, 
There's a home prepared for them there. 

BIRTHDAY GREETING. 



(To E. P. S.) 
Another birthday how they multiply! 
How they on time's swift wings go whirling by 
Shorter, and shorter, seems each flying space 
Till years seem months, and months but briefest 

days, 
In youth's bright days how slow the clock of time. 
Long ages passed between each birthday chime 
Those slowly moving hands we fain would turn 
And speed time on. Oh! we had much to learn. 

We see it now, that time is none too long 
To do our part amid life's busy throng. 
And now the clock of time has struck once more. 
With hearty cheer we greet thee o'er and o'er, 
With long and happy years may thou be blest 
E'er times last stroke shall call thee to thy rest, 
Full well we know it would be hard to find 
A warmer heart and one more truly kind. 

96 



SILVER WEDDING. 



(To Mr. and Mrs. C. E. Warner.) 

Twenty-five years of married life, 

Twenty-five years a husband and wife, 

Twenty-five years of hopes and fears. 

Twenty-five years of smiles and tears, 

Twenty-five years of growing together, 

Twenty-five years of all sorts of weather, 

Twenty-five years — and life and health, 

Children and friends— ah, me, what wealth. 

Crowned by jewels of greater worth 

Than gems that are hid in caves of the earth, 

A beautiful home where Christ is adored. 

Beautiful children around your board. 

Friends who love you and know your worth. 

Ready to share your tears or your mirth; 

Blest in all these, and rarely blest, 

In your choice of the one you love the best; 

Tender and faithful, true and tried. 

Fond hearts beating with love and pride 

Deeper and truer for all the tears 

And smiles you have shared for twenty-five years. 

God bless ihe husband, God bless the wife 

With a long, a useful, a happy life, 

And if it should be your happy fate 

Your golden wedding to celebrate. 

May you be surrounded with girls and boys 

Your children's children, your added joys, 

May we be there to see the sight 

Twenty-five years from this very night. 



97 



TO GRANDMA WARNER. 



(On her 85th birthday) 
Dear Grandma, true and loving friend, 

We're glad that you were born, 
We're glad of every year that's passed 

Since first you saw the morn, 
We're glad that in our quiet town 

You've lived your useful life 
Faithful as neighbor and as friend 

As mother and as wife. 

With loving heart, and busy hand, 

You've reigned the queen of home. 
And now adown the hills of life 

Your footsteps gently come. 
Gathered around you here today 

Behold your loving friends! 
And those who cannot be with you 

Congratulations send. 

Your cheerful face is like the sun 

That shines with softer glow, 
When dropping down the western sky, 

The lengthening shadows grow. 
And here's a thought, dear grandma. 

That's beautiful to me 
The sun is always shining 

Although we may not see. 

So when your sunset comes to us 

And tears fall like the dew, 
Altho' there may be shadows here, 

'Twill sunrise be to you! 
Accept our dearest, fondest love, 

And may each passing year 
Be filled with love and joy and peace 

As Heaven draweth near. 
98 



BRIDAL GREETING. 



(To Mr. and Mrs. J. H. S.) 

We're glad to greet this bridal pair 
With warm congratulation, 

And wish them joy with hearts sincere, 
Devoid of Adulation. 

And yet we might express surprise 

In spite of our sincerity, 
That common prudence should allow 

An act of such temerity. 

Did we not know 'twas always so 

Since Adam was a verity. 
And Eve in bridal fig leaves clothed 

Charmed him with great celerity. 

E'er since the little winged god 

Is found in each vicinity; 
And lovely woman seems to man 

A very rare divinity. 

For when his arrow penetrates 
The heart of frail humanity, 

The case is hopeless, were it rare 
It might be thought insanity. 

As we have hinted, love is brave 
And dares with small timidity 

To face the matrimonial state 

He's sought with such avidity. 

Now since the pair have been thus brave. 
Perhaps 'tis not mendacity 

For one to give advice who thinks 
She has the right capacity. 

99 



Then to the bride: don't let small things 

Disturb your equanimity, 
Don't let a wrinkle, or a frown, 

Be seen in your vicinity. 

Just hold him firm, but kind you know. 

There's folly in ferocity, 
But when there's anything to say 

Just show him your velocity. 

Just one word more (you'll pardon one 
Whose had some slight experience) 

Whate'er you want just get it now, 

There's nothing gained by dalliance. 

Now to the groom who here begins 

A life of domesticity 
There is a rule which will ensure 

Connubial felicity. 

A lover now and always be, 

Depend on my veracity. 
For those who try it never fail 

To prove its great capacity. 




100 



DEDICATION POEM. 



(Windsor High School, 1894.) 

In olden countries far across the sea, 

Where travelers love to wander, here and there, 
In search of all things grand and beautiful, 

Of valued treasures, ancient, rich and rare, 
The eager searcher finds a rich reward 

In sculptured marble, lofty dome and spire, 
In pyramids, how ancient none may know. 

And mossgrown ruins to his heart's desire. 

Happy the lord, or noble whose domain 

A moss-grown ivy-covered pile can boast 
Thrice happy if the aged time-worn pile 

Is haunted by that mystic thing, a ghost. 
While older countries boast, and with some cause, 

Their ancient things, and treasures not a few, 
We of the New-World well may point with pride. 

To our vast progress, and things that are new. 

We've learned that this world moves, and here's 
the proof 

In this fair structure, 'neath whose roof we 
stand. 
Whose unmarred beauty shines with prophes}^ 

Of a long future, glorious and grand. 
Here in its virgin purity it st ands 

Like a fair bride made ready for her spouse, 
Here are assembled fathers of the land, 

To give away the bride and seal the vows. 

lOI 



Thus firmly wedded to the Public Good, 

Her high career already well begun, 
We welcome her: A stepping stone of youth 

To all that's fair and good beneath the sun. 
Here seeds of knowledge sown in fertile minds. 

And watered by a faithful teacher's care, 
Shall thrive and grow, until abundant fruit 

Shall freely scatter blessings e\ erywhere. 

No well-armed ironclad that rides the sea 

Ensures the nation's safety half as well 
As fort like this, well armed with precious youth, 

Knowledge for guns, and facts for shot and 
shell. 
These long-range guns, well loaded, aimed with care, 

Of ignorance and vice the deadly foe, 
Shall quell the base invader who shall dare 

To strike our country's flag a single blow. 




102 



TO THE NEWLY INCORPORATED 
VILLAGE OF DE FOREST. 



To the new-born infant, greeting; 
Infant, lusty, strong and fair. 

Kicks and cries with charming vigor- 
Goodly signs of promise there! 

Has its infant cry a m.eaning, 
As it smites upon the ear? 

Crying for the best of nurture? 
Let it cry^ and never fear. 

Crying will the lungs develop. 

Let it cry and thus grow strong; 

Cry for wisdom, honor, virtue, 
Ever cry against the wrong. 

And it kicks! Its limbs are sturdy 
And can plant a vigorous blow. 

May its aim be well-directed. 

Kicking all that's mean and low. 

May the village of De Forest 

Grow apace in all that's good, 

Grow in numbers, wealth, and virtue, 
As a prosperous village should. 

May it grow, and e'er be loyal 
To itself, and country too. 

Grow, and lo, — a mighty city 

Fair and honored, we shall view. 



103 



W. H. S. CLASS SONG. 

1896 

(Tune — Sweet Afton.) 

We've laid the foundation: this you may say, 
Who thro' patient labor, stand victors to-day, 
'Twas little by little each fragment was laid 
Till strong, firm, and sure, the foundation was made. 
'Twas only by striving thro' long weary da3^s 
You made this beginning so worthy of praise. 
And now that the promise of youth be fulfilled. 
Upon this foundation, arise up and build. 

Take honor and strength for thy permanent walls. 

Give peace and industry a place in thy halls. 

Make knowledge thy windows, and truth be thy 

doors. 
Let wisdom shine forth from thy gables and towers. 
Then add to this temple the warmth of thy love 
With thy faith, like a spire, pointing ever above. 
'Tis thus that with beauty thy life shall be filled. 
You've laid the foundation, arise up and build. 



104 



W. H. S. CLASS SONG. 
1897 



(Tune— Auld Lang Syne.) 

Wisdom hath strength, this gracious truth. 

Should every youth inspire; 
With noble courage and a zeal, 

That doth not quickly tire. 
The path of knowledge is the way. 

By which we fain would rise 
To wisdom's heights, where noblest strength 

And highest honor lies. 

The pathway is both rough and steep, 

By which we've tried to climb; 
But when at last the heights are reached, 

The outlook is sublime. 
Then onward, upward be our course, 

Until we've reached at length 
A height where we shall feel and know. 

True wisdom's noblest strength. 

Wisdom hath strength, O, may we seek 

This elevating power. 
And wielding^ it for righteousness: 

, Twill prove a princely dower. 
The path of knowledge is the way 

By which we fain would nse, 
To wisdom's heights where noblest strength 

And highest honor lies. 



105 



TO THE CLASS OF 1901, WINDSOR 
HIGH SCHOOL. 

Methinks I see a goodly group 

Of comely youths and maidens fair, 
Each clasping in a tiembling hand 

A roll of parchment, tied with care, 
Triumph is written on each brow — 

The dreaded, longed-for time is past! 
This gladsome thought within each heart: 

''This hard- won prize is mine at last." 

Yes, dear young friends, the prize is yours 

And future prizes you await, 
For earnest strife and honest toil 

No prize on earth can be too great. 
If that fair token that you hold 

Of brave achievements hardly won, 
Shall greater victories inspire 

'Twere worth the cost fcr that alone. 

Go on, dear youth and win each prize 

In this round world of worth to you, 
Count not the labor; keep your eyes 

Fixed on the end you have in view. 
Strive for the truth and win the right 

The prize of prizes shall be yours, 
A glorious crown of righteousness, 

A prize which evermore endures. 



106 



SUN PRAIRIE H. S. CLASS SONG 1892. 

(Tune— Old Oaken Bucket.) 

How dear are the scenes where our young thoughts 

have budded, 
The hill that we mounted where knowledge was rife: 
How dear are the halls where the lessons we studied 
Were victories gained in the battle of life. 
The boards thickly covered with signs cabalistic, 
Displaying our proudest achievements so well; 
The desk where our teachers expounded the mystic, 
Dear scenes of our school days, we bid you farewell. 

Chorus: — 
Our dear happy school days, our vanishing school 

days, 
Our dearly loved school days, we bid you farewell. 

With mingled emotions of sorrow and gladness, 
We stand 'twixt the past and the future to-night: 
We turn from our dear happy school days with sad- 
ness. 
Though hope paints the future in colors of light. 
Our painstaking teachers, who faithfully drilled us, 
And bore with our failures and dullness so well; 
Who cheered on our efforts till hopefulness thrilled 

us. 
We bid you, dear teachers, a grateful farewell. 

Chorus:— 
Our painstaking teachers, our true-hearted teachers 
Our dear faithful teachers, we bid you farewell. 

107 



We now bid farewell to our dear Alma Mater, 

To school books and teachers and schoolmates 
adieu; 

We'll cherish the hope that you'll hear from us 
later, 

When we in life*s battle have proved strong and 
true. 

We trust not in vain are the years we've been spend- 
ing, 

We mean that our future their value shall tell; 

A life good and pure with a purpose unbending. 

Shall speak for the school days we now bid fare- 
well. 

Chorus: — 
Our dear happy school days, our vanishing school 

days. 
Our dearly loved school days, we bid you farewell. 




io8 



SUN PRAIRIE CLASS SONG 1894. 

We stand where brook and river meet, 

With courage high we view 
The widening current of our lives 

And bid the past adieu. 
The happy, happy past we know 

No longer can be ours; 
The larger life that's just beyond 

Must try our latent powers. 

Chorus. 
But oh, whate'er of good or ill. 

Our lives may to us bring, 
Around the schoolhouse on the hill. 

Shall fond affection cling. 

The widening brook flows swiftly on 

The river to embrace; 
E'en so our school da3's swiftly glide, 

Leaving behind their trace. 
Much of the beauty and the truth 

Our larger lives may fill, 
Depends on well spent hours within 

The schoolhouse on the hill. 

Chorus. 

And now the brook and river meet. 

The brook is seen no more, 
But still it's waters swell the tide 

That's throbbing on the shore. 
And though we now must say farewell 

And tears our eyes may fill, 
Our richer, fuller lives shall praise 

The schoolhouse on the hill. 

Chorus. 
109 



ON THE DEATH OF G. H. REUSS. 

(To his sorrowing wife.) 
Gone! Gone! It cannot be he's gone, 

Who in the flush, of vigor seemed 
So full of life, untiring, strong, 

That he could die, we never dreamed. 

Like the tall oak whose leafy boughs 

Their strong and sheltering arms spread out 
Was he in all his manly strength 

With his protecting arms about 
The dear ones that he loved so well, 

He fain would shelter from t he touch. 
The slightest touch of want or pain: 

For them he thought and planned so much. 

As lies the lightening-shattered oak 

So lies he strangely cold and still, 
While pain and grief fills every heart, 

His vacant place, ah, who can fill.? 
He will be missed — his cheery smile 

Was like the sun's most genial ray. 
Straightforward as a child was he, 

As open hearted as the day. 

He won warm friends on every side 

By his warm hearted friendiness. 
His heart no malice seemed to hold. 

Ah, what a neighbor we shall miss. 
But thou, dear broken-hearted one. 

Whose grief is e'en too deep for tears. 
Stunned by a loss too great for words; 

How empty life to thee appears. 

no 



But let this comfort thee, dear friend, 

Thy wedded years were bright, though few 
A home where harmony and love 

Made life a song the whole year through, 
The beauteous babe he cherished so 

Still claims thy loving thought and care: 
*Tis thine the seed of truth to sow 

In her young heart to ripen there. 

The ties so rudely broken here 

Shall draw thee to a world more fair. 

And what a home in heaven for thee. 

And what a welcome waits thee there. 

GONE BEFORE. 



(Consolation.) 

Love is not mortal like this mortal frame, 
A flower that blooms to die; but 'tis a flame 
Kindled within each tender human soul. 
No grave can hold it, nor can death control, 
Kindled on earth it glows with life immortal 
When it has passed through heaven's open portal. 
Heaven holds our treasures, makes our love a bond 
That draws us upward to the world beyond. 

Our loved ones love us still, and when the news 
On wires celestial such as angels use — 
Shall fly through Heaven that we are passing o'er. 
They'll haste to meet us on that heavenly shore! 
With raptured greeting ushered into bliss: 
Angels behold with joy a scene like this. 
Each soul that passes through that golden portal 
Adds to the untold heights of bliss immortal! 

Ill 



TO BABY'S MOTHER. 



(Written on the death of Ethel Ernestine Ingalls, 
Jan. ro, 1901.) 



The infant thou hast loved and lost 
Is still thine own in heaven; 

The mother of an angel pure, 
This gift to thee is given. 

She was so lovely, pure and sweet, 
Ah I It was hard to part; 

Each infant smile and winning way 
Endeared her to thy heart. 

In memory's most sacred shrine. 
Thy faithful mother love 

Shall cherish deep and tenderly 
Thy little one above. 

She is not lost. In heavenly bliss 

Her little angel hand 
Shall beckon till thou, too, at last. 

On heavenly shores shall stand. 

The link is still unbroken. 

That bound thy babe to thee; 

Though earth holds not thy treasure, 
Above she's waiting thee. 



112 



IN MEMORY OF MRS. B. F. R. 



March 31st 1891. 
She sleeps and o'er her pallid brow 
The peace of Heaven is resting now, 
But for our loss we fain would weep, 
Her slumber is so long so deep. 
Closed are the lips we oft have heard 
Speak many a loving tender word, 
So quiet now those busy hands, 
So quick to answer love's demands. 

Veiled by those white lids close caress 
Those eyes whose depths of tenderness 
Shone with a radiance so fair 
We loved to see it mirrored there. 
Closed is this brief but useful life, 
A faithful sister, mother, wife. 
Shrinking from neither toil nor care, 
If thus her loved ones she might spare. 

A faithful friend, e'en children knew. 

And loved, and prized, her friendship too, 

Well might the little orphan bring 

Her one sweet flower, love's offering, 

Altho' her absence we deplore, 

Heaven holds for us one treasure more. 

'Twas but a step — a little space. 

And earth and Heaven for her changed place. 

Swift o'er her spirit steals a calm. 
And heavenly breezes lend their balm, 
Celestial waves of music rise. 
Bearing her upward to the skies; 
Thrilled with the rapture of the song, 
Her voice the joyous notes prolong. 
What heavenly visions who can tell? 
She sees her Lord and all is well. 

113 



TO A MOTHER. 



Ah, the mother's heart is aching 
For the babe that lies so still, 

In the sleep that knows no waking 
In a world of pain and ill. 

Sweet he sleeps, no more to languish 
'Mid long dreary hours of pain 

Hushed the heart that throbbed with arlguish 
It shall never know again. 

How the empty arms are longing 
Close to clasp the babe again. 

How the tender memories thronging 
Cause the tears to fall like rain. 

Each dear infant charm grows dearer. 
Each sweet smile and loving look, 

To the vision growing clearer 

Written down in Memory's book. 

But — how sweet the babe is sleeping, 
Calm and restful, free from pain: 

Done, so soon, with all earth's weeping. 
Never knowing sins dark stain. 

Murmur not, the tie that bound thee 

By the tenderest mother love 
Throws a stronger cord around thee, 

Drawing thee to realms above. 

There thy babe awaits thy coming 

To that life of peace and joy, 
Ah, the rapture of that meeting 

With thy darling baby boy. 



114 



TO MRS. BUTLER. 

(On the death of her babe.) 
A little life fraught with love's joy and pain, 
Made glad thy heart, then made thee sad again, 
Its mortal robe, so tiny, frail, and fair. 
Enshrined the soul but could not hold it there. 

And so the summons came. He willed it so 
And in that healthy clime, the babe will grow, 
In wisdom, stature, every heavenly grace 
The beauteous babe will surely grow apace. 

Heaven is a busy place, me thinks that each 
Must some sweet errand do, some lesson teach, 
Some message bear on wings of peace and love 
To earth-worn hearts from realms of bliss above. 

How sweet the thought that souls akin to ours 
Are happy thus with new and higher powers, 
If to our hearts they whisper words of cheer 
How sweet the message to our willing ear! 



IIS 



BRIDAL GREETING. 



(To Mr. and Mrs. M. L.) 

A greeting to a happy bridal pair 

Is often wasted on the empty air, 

This mundane sphere is far beneath their ken 

They stray in paradise beyond the haunts of men, 

In Eden's bowers they wander, happy pair! 

There is just room tor two to entier there. 

This noisy, busy world with all its cares 

Has slipped away from them quite unawares, 

This being true we'll not blame you, my dears, 

If these words too fall on unwilling ears. 

*Tis meet that one whose hair is growing white 
Should greet this young and happy pair tonight 
Whose youth long past is looking well toward age 
Life's story told like a well written page. 
Who is there that could better feel and know 
How youth's bright buoyant hopes doth ebb and flow 
How radiant castles gild the sunny skies 
And faultless angels look from mortal eyes? 
Knows too the stern realities of life 
That come full soon to every man and wife. 
And knowing still can say, God bless you and believe 
Your highest, fondest hopes you never will outlive. 

ii6 



For beauteous virtue joined to stalwart truth 
Dreams not in vain the bright fond dreams of youth, 
Trusting in God you'll keep the vows you've made, 
Strong in your mutual trust and undismayed. 
Not all the storms of life can rudely shock 
The house that's built upon the solid rock. 
May Heavenly blessings in your home abound 
And earthly joys be scattered thickly round, 
May you live long and happy years together. 
With little storm and much of sunny weather. 
May brighter worlds be yours, but first of this 
We wish you double share of wedded bliss. 



^ 



TO MRS. E. Mc- 



(Who had recently met with a serious accident.) 
On this your birthday, pray accept 

Kind wishes most sincere. 
And happy birthdays may you find 

With every passing year. 
You've had your share of life's mishaps, 

Your share of sunshine too, 
And know that clouds but hide the sun — 

'Tis shining still for you. 



117 



CYRIL'S BIRTHDAY. 



Why should we celebrate with joy 
The birthday of this little boy? 
He's only three, what does he know 
But just to eat and live and grow? 
Of books or science, nothing yet, 
Of worldly wisdom not a bit. 
Of greatness, wealth or worldly fame 
He knows of these not e'en the name. 

And yet this little man may be 
Some day a great celebrity. 
May be a statesman wielding power. 
Or world-wide knowledge be his dower; 
May be so great, so good, so wise 
We will be proud to recognize 
In him the self-same little boy 
Whose birth we celebrate with joy. 

Howe'er it be we're glad he's here 
To brighten the life of the pioneer, 
With his quaint speech and fearless way 
And merry laughter all the day. 
E'en though sometimes there be a squall, 
That makes things lively for us all. 
Then let us celebrate with joy 
The birthday of our little boy. 



ii8 



TO MRS. OLYETTE ELLIS. 



(On the presentation of a chair.) 
Dear gifted friend: Some grateful hearts, 

Who in their sorrow's keenest hour, 
Were calmed, and soothed and comforted 

By thy sweet muse's magic power; 
Have thought of thee this Christmas-tide 

And to thee this remembrance send, 
*Twill tell thee how their hearts were touched 

By such a sympathizing friend. 

How blest the pen, and blest the hand, 

That holds such magic power to bless, 
Thrice blessed is the heart that holds 

Such depths of Christ-like tenderness. 
Accept this gift and may you find 

In it long hours of sweet repose, 
And hovering o'er it, may your Muse 

To you her sweetest thought disclose; 

That from this chair the world may hear 

Such gracious words of truth and love 
'Twill smooth their rugged pathway here 

And lead them to the Heaven above. 
Be thine the power to soothe the sad, 

To cheer the weary and forlorn. 
Be thine a starry crown when thou 

Shalt waken to a Heavenly morn. 



119 






THE BLIND SOLDIER. 



With head erect and cheerful smile 

We see him on the street, 
You'd scarcely think that he was blind 

If you with him should meet, 
He'd give a cheery "How d'ye do" 

If you should speak to him. 
But you would hear no piteous tale 

Of hardships sore and grim. 

The long white beard that's flowing down 

Gives him an added grace 
And lends a dignity and charm 

To his sweet kindly face. 
With listening ears, and tapping cane 

He finds his way along. 
He scarcely needs a helping hand 

Amid the hurried throng. 

120 



He knows the lay of every street, 

And he could find the way 
To many a kindly neighbor's door 

Be it by night or day. 
He'd talk to you of current news 

With evident delight; 
His faithful wife is eyes to him, 

And makes his darkness, light. 

Let us honor this brave old veteran, 

Who at his country's call 
Willingly placed his life between 

Our flag and the enemy's ball. 
Though life was spared, its light was gone, 

And his long, long years of night 
So bravely endured shows the hero 

In a strong yet tender light. 

There is many, a brave old soldier 

Crippled, and deaf and blind. 
Living beneath earth's shadows 

Though friends may be true and kind; 
They are waiting, only waiting, 

For the great Commander of all 
To send their honorable discharge. 

And gladly they'll answer the call. 

Then let us honor these veterans. 

Whose numbers are less each year 
And soon the last revered white head 

From our sight will disappear. 
Let us teach our youth it is noble 

To honor the flag, and so 
Its folds they should never tarnish 

By an act that is mean and low. 

121 



WELCOME. 



(To the veterans of the 36th Regiment, Wiscon- 
sin Volunteer Infantry, at the residence of their 
colonel, C. E. Warner, July 8th, 189 1, by Mrs. M. 
J. Sherman.) 

Welcome, veterans, brave and true, 

To this a veteran's home, 
You've stormed the fort and we surrender 
With cordial greeting warm and tender. 
For was not each a home defender? 

Then, welcome, all who come. 

Welcome to all the thirty-sixth, 

Who live to meet once more, 
Who marched through rain and mud and heat 
With aching limbs and blistering feet, 
Yet hastened on the foe to meet 

Nor shrank from perils sore. 

We view with pain your thinning ranks. 

We note your altered mien. 
The boys in blue, stalwart and young. 
Whose clarion tones the echoes rung 
Whene'er their flag victorious swung 

Will never more be seen. 

Time steals a march upon us all 
And here today we view 
Some brows adorned with locks of white. 
Eyes that have lost their youthful light 
And deepening lines which times swift flight 
Has surely brought to you. 

Time did I say.-* Ah! 'twas not time 

Caused all the changes that we see: 
'Twas caused where Southern bullets fell, 

122 



Where screamed and whistled shot and shell, 
And this fair earth was like a hell 
And blood flowed ceaselessly. 

'Twas caused by wounds, by marches long, 

By slow starvation's pain? 
What wonder changes come to you? 
What wonder that the boys in blue 
Each year grow feebler and more few 
Who live to meet again? 

God bless the boys! for boys you are, 

In spite of time and change. 
The peace you conquered, may it grow. 
And truth her steadfast light bestow, 
Till brother's blood shall cease to flow 

O'er all the wide world's range. 

Through all the coming years of time 

May peace your lives enlarge 
Though in life's battles you must fight, 
May all your victories tell for right. 
And each receive at sunset light 

An honorable discharge. 

Once more we bid you welcome here, 

A re-united band 
Of veterans who stood side by side 
In peril's hour. Why should you hide 
The warmth that in your hearts abide 

When comrades grasp your hand. 

Then let your voices now be heard, 

Live o'er the past to-day; 
Fire stories at us round on round, 
We'll bravely try to stand our ground; 
Such ammunition leaves no wound, 

So boys, just fire away! 
123 



WRITTEN FOR THE MEMORIAL SERVICE 
OF PRESIDENT McKINLEY. 

September 19, 1901. 



Aye, mourn the Nation's dead, 

Our hero lying low; 
Our mighty Nation's honored head 

Is taken from us now! 
Slain by assassin's hand, 

A very coward's deed! 
No wonder that we execrate 

The slayer and his creed! 

Mourn for the Nation's dead, 

Our hero now asleep, 
With fragrant flowers around his bed 

His slumber long and deep; 
Mourn for the Nation's loss. 

Mourn for the friends who weep, 
But shed no tears for him who lies 

In this long peaceful sleep. 

For him the night is past. 

For him the light has come, 
He's "Nearer to his God" at last. 

He sleeps — but wakes at home! 
For him all cares are o'er. 

Cares of a crushing weight. 
As few have borne such cares, he bore, 

The heavy load of state. 

124 



Ours is the loss and grief, 

Ours the shame and pain, 
That thrice in this, our fair, free land 

Our Nation's head is slain! 
This lesson are we taught, 

Who love our native land, 
True freedom and wild lawlessness 

Can ne'er walk hand in hand. 

Aye, mourn the Nation's dead. 

The hero loved and lost. 
The blow that struck our honored head 

Struck an unnumbered host. 
And now around his bed 

True hearted patriots stand 
And God and their right arm shall guard 

Our own dear Native Land, 




125 



TO WASHINGTON, 



O, Washington, thou character sublime, 

Our precious heritage until the end of time, 

Thy love of truth, thy sense of justice stern, 

The patriot fires that in thy soul did burn. 

Thy manly courage in the hour of need. 

Thy lofty scorn of perfidy and greed. 

Thy love and tenderness so deep and true, 

The depths of pity that thy kind heart knew. 

Thy cultured mind so generous and broad — 

All these combined with reverence to thy God, 

Made up a manhood of majestic strength, 

And crowned thee with the victor's crown at length 

Our Washington! We point with pride to thee 

Who led our fathers forth to victory, 

Stanch men and true, who though they loved not 

strife 
Loved freedom and their honor more than life. 
To thee and them, our gratitude we owe 
That freemen's blessings we have learned to know. 

Alas, alas, that there should come to pass 

Perils that seem to make of freedom but a farce! 

O, Washington, if thou couldst see today 

The maze of dangers that beset our way, 

Couldst thou but see the men the world calls great 

In courts of justice and in halls of state. 

Who use their power of office not as sacred trust. 

But flinging e'en their honor in the dust 

Put greed of gain before their country's weal. 

Forswear their vows and to base Mammon kneel, 

126 



Couldst thou but see thy country thus betrayed 
For which such costly sacrifice was made, 
Could tears of sorrow e'er in Heav'n be shed, 
Or blush of shame o'er angel faces spread — 
Then tears of anguish would flow swiftly down 
A shame flushed face beneath thy golden crown! 

When freemen's weal and selfish interests clash 
Ah, who is there that will avert the crash? 
The powers that scoff at freemen and who make 
Their will a cipher, and their vote a fake. 
Must they not learn that dollars can't control 
The love of freedom in the human soul? 
We need strong men who will arise in might 
That men may keep what is their sacred right, 
O, for more men like Washington today! 
Strong men, who will dispute oppression's sway 
Just men of honor who will stand for right 
Though they may gain no dollars in the fight! 
Such men would soon force craft and greed to own 
That freemen hold the power behind the throne. 




127 



TO FRANCES WILLARD. 



She hath done what she could, 

Her whole beautiful life 
She gave to mankind 

In the noblest strife, 
There were long, weary years 

She called not her own; 
Throughout the wide world 

Her labors are known. 

She hath done what she could — 

Ah, who could do more 
Than she, the dear Great-heart 

Whose labors are o'er? 
Her hands, heart, and brain, 

Unwearied she gave; 
In the cause of the right 

She was strong, true and brave. 

She hath done what she could, 

Must her labor be lost. 
With the love that she gave 

And the life that it cost? 
Ah no! she still lives 

In hearts full of love 
Her cause is God's cause 

And he reigns above. 



128 



WEEDS. 



(Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap. Gal. 6: 7.) 
(Read at the Th'rd District Convention W. C. T. U. of Wis , May 

23, 1890.) 



Shall I tell a tale of the Land of Man.? 

There was never a land more fair; 
The wheat nodded gracefully in the breeze, 
'Mid the song of birds and the hum of bees, 

And the flowers shed fragrance rare, 
And the ripening grain 'neath the sun's warm kiss, 
Promised peace, and plenty and happiness. 

For they sowed good seed in the Land of Man, 

In that rich and fertile soil, 
And they worked with a will the long day through, 
And mother earth gave them (as mothers do,) 

A rich reward for their toil, 
And love and duty to God and neighbor. 
Brought blessings from heaven to sweeten their 

labor. 

But as seasons rolled on, a poisonous weed 

Began to appear all around. 
And it grew so rank it choked the wheat, 
*Till many suffered for food to eat, 

And a remedy must be found. 
So they talked and planned but they couldn't agree. 
For each had a way of his own, you see. 

129 



Some radical ones, (and you know my friends 

There always will be a few), 
Thought to wholly destroy the pestilent thing 
With all the evils it threatened to bring 

Was the very best way to do. 
Every weed of the kind that was left alive, 
Would produce many more to grow and thrive. 

Others said, a weed so determined to grow 

*Twas useless to try to destroy, 
Just wait and see what they could do, 
That the evil was great was very true, 

But they'd means of restriction employ. 
If they gave to this weed a legitimate show, 
'Twouldn't have to steal into their wheat fields you 

know. 

So they authorized men to sow the seed 

In certain by-places they named. 
And then if weeds would grow with the wheat. 
Spoiling the food the children would eat, 

They certainly couldn't be blamed. 
And so, with an air of wisdom profound, 
These august statesmen held their ground. 

But strange to say, the trouble increased, 

In spite of their wise restriction, 

And the cries of want, and the tears of woe 

Which this evil caused so freely to flow. 
Produced not a little friction. 

So they passed a law they called local option, 

And some found relief by its adoption. 

It worked this way, each cared for his own, 

Some farmers killing the weed, 
While some preferred the good old way, 

130 



Trying this monster evil to stay 

By diligently sowing the seed! 
These raised a full crop with plenty to spare 
For the farmer who killed his weed with care. 

And faster and farther the evil spread 
'Till hearts were filled with despair! 

And hope grew faint, and sin grew bold, 

And want unmeasured and woe untold, 
Was reaped with the harvest there! 

But 'mid all this darkness a light appears 

As the people awake from the stupor of years. 

So a brighter day dawns, for the people are roused, 

No more can they close their eyes 
To an evil that reaches on and on, 
'Till, the strength of its wretched victims gone, 

All limits it boldly defies. 
They see the folly of sowing a weed. 
Where there's only room for the best of seed! 

They have learned in order to be quite safe, 

And reap the fruit of their labor. 
They must not only protect with care 
Their land from weeds that would grow there 

But must do the same for their neighbor; 
In short they have come more and more to agree 
With the ground the radicals held you see. 

The mischief done is exceedingly great. 

The weed has been growing so long. 
But their hearts are aflame with a holy zeal, 
And they'll work for their own and their neighbor's 

weal 

With a faith that is firm and strong. 
Beneath this banner they take their stand, 
For God and Home and Native Land! 

131 



Now the Land of Man is not far away, 

Would you see it? 'Tis just at your hand, 

Men (but such manhood is only a name.) 

Men are sowing the seeds of sin and shame 
Upheld by the laws of the land! 

Shall this nation submit to the Rum King's rule? 

Consent to be naught but this monster's tool? 

No, never, while God lives and true hearts beat! 

Manhood, womanhood, strong, united, 
Shall cause this Dagon to fall on his face, 
And shall root from our land this foul disgrace. 

By God and true hearts shall this wrong be 
righted, 
So, if a lone weed you should spy by and by, 
Like the "last rose of summer," 'tis blooming to die. 




132 



LICENSE— YES, OR NO? 



Good people rally one and all 

I>on't let your thoughts go floatin' 
But think what you are goin' to do 

About this License votin' votin'. 
You men throughout the city, now. 

Must speak right out in meetin', 
We wonder if a "License Yes," 

Our ears will soon be greetin' 

Or ''License No." 

Now all you men who love to drink 

And want a place to drink in, 
All fitted up with easy-chairs 

For failin' limbs to sink in; 
Who do not mind the language rude 

And oaths your wives would shrink from, 
So long as there's enough to drink 

And fine cut glass to drink from, 
Vote License Yes. 

And you my friends who want to make, 

A little honest (?) money. 
By temptin' weak and foolish boys 

With songs and stories funny; 
Who would grow rich on hard-earned cash 

Exchanged for liquid ruin 
Though briny drops from woman's eyes 

Should mix with your own brewin' 
Vote License Yes. 

133 



.>> 



And you who want the revenue' 

To fill the city's coffers, 
Who'd tempt the weak to save your purse, 

Just take this chance that offersi 
What matter thoug^h some wretch be shot 

'Mongst those who grind your axes? 
Should bills in consquence' mount up, 

The county pays the taxes! 

Vote License Yes. 

And you who've fine young boys to spare, 

(Your neighbor's boys might do sir,) 
To keep the "trade" in good repair, 

I say the same to you sir; 
Just bring the dear young lads along, 

You're doubtless glad to aid, sir. 
The jails, asylums, prisons, all 

Must be supplied by "trade" sir, 
Vote License Yes. 

But you who caring less for pelf, 

Prefer a safe, clean city, 
Who'd scorn to gain by weak men's vice, 

But fain would shield and pity; 
Who have no precious boy to spare,' 

Nor yet a pure, sweet daughter 
To swell the list of broken hearts 

Caused by this legal slaughter. 
Vote License No! 






134 



SALT. 

A beautiful country this land of ours, 

Not a fairer clime can be found; 
And we would not exchange the land of our birth 

For any the wide world round; 
But what means this mighty tide of wrong 

Rushing onward with scarcely a halt! 
I've thought as I pondered it well and long 

That the one thing needful is salt. 

The salt of the earth is the righteous soul 

Whose cause is the cause of the just, 
Who stands for the right though he stands alone, 

And who never betrays his trust; 
Thank God there are some souls tried and true, 

Whose lives we may thus exalt. 
But alas for our land, that there are so few 

Who are thoroughly seasoned with salt. 

If the salt of justice, honor and truth 

Should season the hearts of men. 
The standard of right would be raised so high 

It never would grovel again ! 
'Tis useless to weakly sit and weep, 

Remember where lies the fault, 
We cannot expect a nation will keep 

Unless it is seasoned with salt. 

135 



We look to you in this hour of need 

Dear youth of our loved home land, 
Soon the sacred trust of a nation's weal 

Will be placed in your waiting hand: 
To this holy trust be ever true, 

'Gainst the power of evil revolt; 
Be sure, you season our national stew. 

With the very best kind of salt. 

Have salt in yourselves the Master has said, 

And His meaning was deep and wide. 
You cannot expect to be sweet all through 

From a little salt outside; 
But let it permeate through and through 

To the very depths of your heart 
And the salt of truth and justice too 

You'll be ready to impart. 

There is one thing however, that salt cannot do, 

And to try it never will pay; 
You cannot make pure a thing bad in itself, 

Though you salt it a year and a day: 
You cannot make clean, corn, barley or rye, 

When once 'tis allowed to decay 
Be the license low or the license high 

You are throwing your salt away. 

Whenever you meet with a thing that is wrong, 

Don't try to salt it down. 
But cleanse it out by the help of God 

Though the world look on and frown. 
Have salt in yourselves, your colors display 

In the progress of right never halt, 
And we'll hope to see at no distant day 

Our nation preserved with salt. 

136 



DO SOMETHING. 

The harvest is great and the laborers few, 

We should do with our might what our hands find 

to do. 
The field is so wide there is work for each one. 
From the dawn of the day to the set of the sun. 
Then up and be doing, be true and be brave 
Reach out helpful hands the helpless to save. 

'*I call not the righteous," our Lord doth declare, 
But the weak and the erring were ever His care; 
The tempted and sinful, the poor, blind, and lame, 
He healed and he blessed; go thou, do the same, 
His work should be ours; His steps be our guide. 
His cause must prevail whatever betide. 

There are souls that are dying for want of your care, 
There are lives that are wrecked, there are hearts 

in despair. 
There are children that's crying, yes crying for 

bread, 
O, say not to these "Be ye warmed and be fed." 
But do, oh, do something, to lessen the woe. 
The want and the sorrow so many hearts know. 

Yes work with your might and remember the cause, 
(The open saloon upheld by our laws.) 
That brings us this curse, yet do not despair, 
But pray till all Heaven is moved by your prayer, 
And work till that day, O may it be soon, 
When there's not to be found one open saloon. 

137 



THE REAPER. 

A reaper went forth to the harvest, 

And her heart was heavy with fear, 
For the sickle which she carried. 

Had lain for many a year 
In a little chamber closet, 

With tools of various kinds, 
Some bright with use, but others 

Of usage bore no signs. 

This sickle was dull and rusted, 

And I heard the reaper say, 
"I know I can cut but little. 

And that in a blundering way." 
But she sharpened her sickle bravely, 

And worked till the set of sun. 
And she found her blade was brighter . 

Than when she at first begun. 

Keep your weapons bright, my sisters, 
With constant and daily use; 

That your blade is dull and rusty 
Is never a good excuse. 

Thrust in your sharpened sickle 

And gather the grain that falls; 
Let your flashing blade be wielded 

Wherever the Master calls. 
And when the harvest is ended 

And the Lord of the harvest appears, 
Well done, good and faithful servant, 

Will be music to your ears. 

138 



LOYAL LEGION SONG. 
(Tune — Marching through Georgia.) 



We're a Loyal Temperance Legion five hundred 

thousand strong, 
Now don't you think we're big enough to help the 

world along? 
And join you in the battle against all licensed 

wrong, 

While we go marching to victory. 

chorus: 

Hurrahl Hurrah! We'll bring the jubilee. 
Hurrah! Hurrahl We're growing, don't you see? 
No licensed wrong we'll tolerate when we shall 
voters be. 

And we go marching to victory. 

We're growing older every day, and growing wiser 

too, 
We're learning to be citizens, both temperate and 

true, 
And honor well the dear old flag, with field of starry 

blue, 

While we go marching to victory. 

CHORUS. 

We've learned to hate the poison that takes away 
man's sense> 

And takes from him his money without a recom- 
pense. 

If we should drink it don't you think we should be 
very dense? 

But we'll go marching to victory. 

chorus: 
139 



We'll make a mighty army when our Le^'on is 

grown up; 
We'll help to banish from our land the intoxicating: 

cup 
And all the wrongs of graft and greed of which we 

now must sup. 

We will go marching to victory. 

CHORUS. 

VICTORY IS COMING— EQUAL SUFFRAGE 

SONG. 



Tune: Battle Hymn of the Republic. 

Yes, the glorious day is coming, there is victory in 

sight. 
And the eye grown dim with watching now with 

hope is growing bright, 
For the cause of justice triumphs in the battle for 

the right, 

Our cause is marching on. 

Chorus: 
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, 
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, 
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah, 

Our cause is marching on. 

Oh, the way was long and weary, and our noble 

pioneers 
Prayed, and worked and wept till surely light is 

breaking through their tears. 
Human Rights are gaining prestige o'er the wrongs 

of ancient years. 

The world is marching on. 

140 



See the grand procession moving jubilant upon the 

way. 
Hearts are beating high with courage, faith and 

hope are theirs to-day. 
Soon the hour when all are equal and none says 

another nay, 

But all go marching on. 

Onward, then O faithful woman, tread each path 

of human need 
Till we see each state and nation to the good of all 

take heed. 
Onward, for the world doth listen, and our triumph 
God shall speed! 

For God is marching on. 

A MESSAGE, 



To Former Co-workers. 

Dear friends, and fellow workers, tried and true, 
A message I would gladly bring to you 
Warm with the memories of days agone, 
When we in love and labor, all were one, 
Are we not still united in a bond 
That reaches heavenward to the great Beyond? 
A bond, that time or distance cannot break, 
A "Union" none would willingly forsake? 

What helpful message can I bring to you? 
You, who were ever of the "faithful few,'* 
To you whose labor, prayers and tears, 
Have blessed our cause for lo-these many years, 

141 



To you whose hope and courage, love and faith, 
Have proved as long as life, ay and as strong as 

death. 
What can I say that has not all been said 
To cheer you in the toilsome path you tread? 

Message of Faith to you I fain would bring, 
Faith in the cause to which you fondly cling, 
Faith in its righteousness, its mission high. 
To bless the world its holy destiny; 
Faith in yourselves, to will and still to do, 
No seeming failure, be as such to you. 
Faith in your work which ever shall endure 
Faith in your God whose promises are sure. 

Message of Hope I'd gladly bring to you, 

Hope for the cause whose good you have in view, 

Hope for our children, and our children's children 

top 
Hope for the weak and tempted born anew, 
Hope for the future of the human race, 
Hope for the world, redeemed by saving grace. 
Yes, hope dear sisters, for these blessings all 
Your cause is God's, no failure can befall. 

Message of Love to you again I'd bring. 

Of joy and hope the very fount and spring 

Of faith the secret power, and bulwark strong. 

Love that is ever kind and suffers long; 

That love that makes all toilsome labor light. 

Renews our courage, makes our hopes more bright. 

Love to our neighbor, love to all our race 

Our love to God will teach us by His grace. 



142 



RALLYING SONG. 



(For Green Co. Wis. W. C. T. U.) 
Tune: Tramp, tramp, tramp the boys are marching. 

In this grand white ribbon band, we are proud to 

say to you. 

Old Green County's face is ever to the foe 

Now the victory is in sight, this is just the thing to 

do: 

All together strike a hard and telling blow. 

Chorus: 

Tramp, tramp, tramp. Green County's march- 
ing 

Cheer up sisters we will come. 

We will help you win the fight, in the name of 
God and right. 

We will drive the curse from every land and 
home! 

Give Green County cheer on cheer, we will hold 
our banner high, 
Pressing hard upon our craven trembling foe. 
We will never sound retreat, we have but to nobly 
try. 
And a glorious victory is ours we know. 

Chorus: 



143 



A QUESTION OF LOGIC. 



(To The Voters) 

The logic of man is a curious thing, 

Its depths one can scarcely sound, 
From cause to effect as ''straight as a string," 

They will argue round and round. 
But what seems so smooth and simple and plain. 

Should we try to follow it out. 
Will elude the grasp of the average mind. 

And leave one in darkness and doubt. 

For instance, one of these logical men 

Says: "Just let me start a saloon, 
'Twill make business lively for all, you see, 

And we'll all be rich very soon." 
Now the logic of this seems simple enough 

But I own it puzzles me sore, 
For behind the question of dollars and cents. 

There is more, ah, very much more! 

You may get the business, but there is a doubt 

Whether you gain or lose. 
For the man who treats his stomach too well, 

Hasn't always the cash for his shoes. 
Right here is a fact that some overlook. 

Or pass it carelessly by; 
The more one spends for goods that are wet. 

The less there is left for the dry: 

144 



But letting that pass, some questions arise 

In regard to this traffic in drink, 
Which have as much claim on your manhood today 

As the almighty dollar, we think. 
One question is this: Will our public schools, 

Where the coming man is seen, 
Be better, you think, for a place to drink 

So near the schoolhouse green? 

Will it strengthen our youth, our hope and our 
pride 

To foster this thing in our town? 
Are you willing your boys should be customers there, 

And enter the road that leads down, 
Down from the path of the good and the true, 

Away from a useful life; 
Into the ranks of vice and sin, * 

Familiar with scenes of strife? 

Are you willing, I ask, to spare your boys? 

**Ahno"! I hear you groan, 
I pray, in God's name, let your neighbor's boys 

Be as sacred to you as your own! 
I pra)'' you, put souls above dollars and cents. 

The rights of the weak don't despise. 
Let our streets be as safe for the tempted soul. 

As the homes we love and prize. 

O, a business that grows by a trade in drink. 

Is a business God can't bless, 
For it thrives with the growth of crime and sin 

And heart-break and wretchedness. — 
The logic that would give to one the right 

To ruin the youth of our land. 
Is a logic, so cruel, so hard, so strange, 

That I NEVER CAN UNDERSTAND. 



THOUGHTS ON THE TWENTY-FIFTH 

ANNIVERSARY OF THE LADIES' 

MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 



This is the time when mem'ries throng 

Like chickens round our door, 
Each crumb of recollection grasped 

Then look about for more. 
Each marked event, each old-time friend 

Comes to our mind anew, 
We smile— but tears are very near, 

As we the past review. 

Time flies we know, yet wonder when 

We note the flight of years. 
We greet each New Year as it comes 

Andlo, it diseapears! 
And now — 'tis but the flight of time 

We celebrate in song, 
A quarter of a century! 
Can it have been so long? 

If labors have kept pace with time 

Then we may well rejoice; 
If loving zeal inspired our gifts 

And to our prayers gave voice, 
What has been done, what seed been sown, 

Does faith and hope abide? 
Have missions grown, has love increased, 

Has God been glorified? 



146 



These questions well may give us thought, 

And happy thrice are we, 
If we can say with humble heart 

"To God the glory be, 
For all the fruitage of these years, 

Each upward, onward stride. 
We owe it all dear Lord to Thee, 

Our Helper and our Guide." 

"And where we've failed to do Thy will, 

And left undone some deed, 
Neglected souls we might have blessed, 

Forgive us Lord we plead." 
Thus would we pray, may future years 

More and more fruitful be, 
'Till we shall hear the Lord's "Well done," 

In glad eternity. 

What inspiration we have found, 
What counsels sweet and wise, 

What blessings great we have received, 

How small our sacrifice, — 
All this we see, and strength, and faith. 

And courage are renewed; 
And we'll go on to larger things 

With hearts of gratitude. 




147 



HOW TO HELP A MISSIONARY MEETING 
TO LIVE. 



In the first place be sure you are always there, 
With mind and soul strengthened by secret prayer, 
Let no petty excuses keep you at home. 
But cheerfully, regularly, prayerfully come. 

And come in good season, for if you are late. 
You may cause, perhaps a whole roomful to wait. 
Then show by your promptness, your love and your 

zeal, 
And others your glad, willing spirit shall feel. 

Again, don't forget your glasses to bring, * 
That you may see clearly to read or to sing 
Come ready, when called on, to do your full part. 
And thus you will gladden the president's heart. 

When called on to pray, let your clear voice be 

heard 
As your soul holds communion with Savior and Lord 
A brief, earnest prayer that shall reach the white 

throne 
And thrill with new life the heart of each one. 

With feeling and earnestness read well your part 
As though the words came from your warm, tender 

heart, 
Read distinctly and clearly, that each one may hear 
And no one may lose words of comfort and cheer. 

148 



When a sister is reading, pray let me just mention, 
That you should then listen with closest attention; 
Don't fidget or whisper or let your mind wander, 
But listen and learn and the lesson well ponder. 

Be willing to do your full part of the work 
And don't let your modesty make you a shirk. 
If wanted for office don't h'ang back and say 
**I never can do it. Excuse me, I pray." 

In giving be liberal, thoughtful and wise, 
And don't be afraid of some self sacrifice^ 
Give freely, and take our dear Lord at His word, 
And rich and abundant shall be your reward. 

Now, try these things, sisters, try them well, tr.y 

them long. 
And you, I am sure, will live and grow strong. 
The fruitage of all you have done and may do. 
Shall prove a rich blessing to others and you. 




149 



THE HIGH-LICENSED DOG. 



A man had a dog that was vicious and vile, 

He was ugh^ and black as could be, 
He bit every soul that came in his way. 
And his owner grew fat on the blood of his prey, 
'Till the people were frightened, but what could 
they say 
The man kept the law don't you see? 

He paid his dog-tax with so honest an air, 

You'd think him a saint in disguise, 
The people looked on and said "I declare, 
The life of that dog we surely must spare. 
We need all the taxes or else we'd despair." 

(And here they all groaned, and looked wise.) 

"We must pay up the doctor and funeral bills 

They've been very heavy of late. 
So many were bitten, so many have died. 
We need all the taxes," these wiseacres cried; 
"We'll make them still higher. We'll not be de- 
nied; 

The man's love for his dog is so great." 

The owner consented with radiant smiles, 

And the dog with permission given, 
Went on with his work of destruction and woe. 
And owner and dog the bolder did grow 
'Till the streets with the blood of the victims did 
flow, 
While their wailing ascended to heaven. 

150 



Then the people opened their eyes at last, 

''We've made a mistake," they cry; 
"We must kill that dog or our fate is sealed. 
We'll have that odious law repealed, 
The taxes haven't the matter healed, 

That blood-thirsty dog must die." 

So they went to work with a right good will, 
(For the people's word was law,) 

And that dog soon slept his last long sleep 

And they buried him then in a grave so deep. 

That the thunder of ages might over him sweep, 
And he never would move a paw. 




151 



Q 1809 



/COPY DB TO CAT 0!V. 

DEC e J 1909 






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